Hindsight
by DarkElements10
Summary: Colt should have asked more questions and never ignored his gut feeling. When it's uncovered that Hugo Snyder's connection to the Douglases is more extensive than previously thought, everything they thought they knew gets questioned. Snyder has wanted nothing more than to see Sam Douglas go down, and he will do anything to make it happen – they all should have seen it coming.
1. The Story So Far

**Hindsight**

 **By: Rhuben**

 **Summary – **In hindsight, Colt should have asked more questions. When it's uncovered that Hugo Snyder's connection to the Douglas's past is more extensive than previously thought, everything they thought they knew gets questioned. At a formidable time of their lives, the boys find themselves walking the thin line of acting or staying out of the way when they find that danger is closer to home than ever before. Figuring out girls, and which colleges to apply to should have been the only obstacles in their lives but keeping up with homework, social lives, and responsibilities at home fall by the wayside as worry and tension builds. Snyder has wanted nothing more than to see Sam Douglas go down, and he will do anything to make it happen – they all should have seen it coming. Colt never should have ignored his gut feeling.

* * *

 **Chapter 01**

Sparing his retinas from the bright glare of the computer screen in front of him, Samuel "Rocky" Douglas Jr. leaned back in his chair. His taut back muscles loosened as he stretched, eliciting a deep, long sigh from him. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

The high school library had become a sort of sanctuary for him since he had started attending four years ago. If he wasn't slipping in quick study breaks between classes, or joining bigger groups for upcoming exams, he would pop in for a bit of quiet reading and to go over his notes.

On other occasions, such as this, he would be perched in front of this specific computer. Everyone knew that it was his spot. Now in his senior year, he had a certain place he liked to sit. Situated in one of the back alcoves of the library, he could get as much privacy as he wanted, and still see what was going on around him.

In an academic setting, the words "library" and "privacy" didn't exactly fit together. Especially when he could just go home – not like he had much privacy there, either. In the long run, however, it was better to log on to the internet in a public setting and sign on to the guest network instead of logging in under his own name. With what he was using the internet for (it was nothing to blush about), it was something he tried to keep quiet, lest he start a panic. It was better to have everything work in his favor.

"Everything around us can be our friend. Be friendly to your environment." Those were an example of words he lived by, and in this instance, it certainly worked in his favor. He respected those who also chose to work in the quiet area, making sure to clean any trash he accumulated, (which consisted of crumpled up paper balls, food wrappers, and empty portable coffee cups), and in return no one bothered him.

And spotting Emily Sargeant over the top of the computer monitor walking towards him was _not_ the universe working in his favor.

He reacted with a start. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he rapid-clicked away all the web browser windows he had open. Eyes shifting back and forth between the computer monitor and his friend, his heart beat quickened. Closer and closer she came. He licked his lips, pressed them together, and curled his twitching fingers into a fist, covering his mouth with the side of it.

"Boo!" Emily smiled as she reached his table. Her lips parted in a wide smile. "I thought I'd find you here."

Letting out a slow, calming breath of air, Rocky settled back in his seat, glancing at the school's website staring back at him. Turning towards his old friend, he put a smile to his face. "What's up?" he asked, trying to remove the tension from his shoulders.

"I didn't see you in the cafeteria, so I came to find you," Emily replied, setting her backpack down onto the table. Grabbing a spare chair, she dragged it across the carpet before sitting down next to him. Leaning forward in her seat, she glanced at the computer screen. "Whatcha doing?"

"Homework, e-mailing teachers," Rocky replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "You didn't have to come all the way over here." Putting a smile on his face, he reached for his abandoned ball cap sliding it over his sandy hair, twisting it around until the brim was at his back. "I was just about to head out to get some food myself."

"Great," Emily chirped, "then we can walk over together."

Rocky's smile froze on his face. He was caught. There was no way he could talk himself out of this. He had already done it a few times and knew she'd catch on eventually. Emily was smart. Smart enough to get into any college or university she wanted, and yet she was still entertaining the idea of attending the same university as him. (He just needed to decide first.) Whether that decision was due to residual feelings she had had for him since childhood, he didn't know, and he wasn't about to insult her by bringing those thoughts to her attention.

After living next door to each other for years, they had been…something. Friends, of course; school mates, naturally; and study buddies, by default. But as they got older, something shifted between them. When and how that shift came about, he couldn't exactly pinpoint it. One day they were friends hanging out in school, going to friend's parties, texting each other all the time, and walking in and out of each other's houses. The next there were the awkward silences.

Silences where they could only shyly smile and do whatever they could to not look each other in the eye as they tried to think of something (anything!) to talk about. Even their tin can telephone conversations would consist of "what time are you going to school?" and "what was our assigned homework, again?", no thanks in part to Rocky's younger brothers who would always make kissing noises and tease him the second Emily's voice came over the wire.

He wouldn't say they dated. Maybe in the Junior High version of the word: which mainly consisted of eating lunch together, sitting next to each other, and texting any chance they got. But nothing official. There was mutual attraction, but neither of them had ever pushed things along further (despite the outside pressures of their peers to do so). Even his mom would give him knowing looks whenever she would be over for dinner or to do homework.

As they got older, they moved in different directions. Things fizzled. Their courses and electives made it so they didn't see each other as much. The Douglas family had even moved twice in the wake of the "shenanigans" – as his father put it – that he and his brothers seemed to get up to every year. As a result, Emily was no longer "the girl next door" (although her blonde hair, which grew to be more of a brown as they got older, and blue eyes, would disagree with him) but a friend he would see passing by in the halls. One to throw a smile at in passing and to quickly chat with to catch up on occasion.

"So!" Emily clapped her hands together as she got to her feet. "You ready for tonight?"

Backpack thrown over his shoulder, Rocky adjusted his hat, giving her a weird look. "What are you talking about?" he asked. Side by side, they made their way out of the library.

"Seriously?" Emily asked, giving him an odd look. "Baseball practice?" Rocky's eyebrows lifted. "Aren't some of you training and practicing in the off-season?" Rocky's eyebrows lifted even further.

Sports had never really been Emily's forte, and he knew she wasn't always excited to sit in the stands and watch him when he and his brothers would play for the Dragons in the summer months. And yet, he would always find her cheering him and his brothers on. He had to give her more credit; she knew and understood more about the sport than he thought. As Rocky got older, he took on the position of not only assistant coach much to his father's pleasure, but the pitching coach to the younger players as well.

"Yeah…" he slowly replied.

"Aren't you practicing pitches? Or something? To start getting in shape when the season starts?" Emily let out a huff of air in frustration at his continued lack of a response. "You said some of your teammates have been setting this up since the beginning of summer."

Rocky instantly stopped walking. _How could I have forgotten that?_ They had been talking about it forever. A couple of his teammates had even stopped by his locker to let him know when they planned on starting things up. The school year had just barely started, but it wasn't too early to prepare for the upcoming season. Without the coaches being allowed to hold official practices during the off-season per division rules, they took matters into their own hands with practices and conditioning sessions made around availability of courses. It goes to show how much slipped his mind around this time of year. Not much floated around in his brain apart from –

"You forgot, didn't you?" Emily asked, breaking Rocky out of his deep thoughts.

"Of course not!" Rocky instantly replied, making a face. He mentally kicked himself. Why was he even lying about it? It wasn't like she was upset about it, or even accusing him of it, either. And it wasn't anything too important – like his upcoming English test he just remembered! Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he opened his calendar app, making a face at the multiple block of events he had for the rest of the week. "I've been looking forward to it. Why would I forget that?"

"You tell me," Emily replied with a shrug. The question hung in the air in between them. He was the first to break their staring contest.

Rocky let out a sigh through his nose. He pocketed his phone and started walking again. "I'm fine, Em," he said, lifting a hand to mess with the tuft of hair poking out of the closure of his hat. She fell into step beside him. Her cheek poked out from her tongue. He knew the action well. She didn't believe him. "Trust me."

A wry smile appeared on her face. "You said the same thing after my bike was stolen," she said.

Rocky chuckled at the memory – though it wasn't funny at the time. It was so long ago. Back when his only problems were dealing with a father who didn't approve of spending his summers with his grandpa studying martial arts and dealing with school bullies. "I kept my promise, didn't I?" he asked. Emily rolled her eyes but nodded. "So, trust me on this."

"It's just that you say that every year around this time," Emily pointed out after a period of silence. Pressing his lips together, Rocky lifted his gaze towards the ceiling. "Something's off with you. I can just tell." His eyes widened in annoyance. Clearly, she wasn't going to drop the conversation. "I care about you, Rocky, that's all. We're friends. When something bothers you, it bothers me, too."

"I appreciate it," Rocky replied. He pushed open the doors of the library. Grabbing the brim of his hat, he turned it around to the front, allowing the bill to block the sunlight from his face. "Seriously." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he took in the view of the high school campus he would soon be leaving behind.

The sports fields sat untouched in the distance, waiting for the after-school crowd, the athletic center situated a short walk away. They passed the square in the center of the school; filled with students taking a break between classes. The high school had a laidback style that complimented the picturesque landscape of the city. The sunsets were something of beauty (ones he had personally witnessed on many occasions) and the weather, even on the gloomiest of days, felt perfect. Built in the base of sloping hills and varying levels of the mountain, you never got the same view of the surrounding area twice. Despite how stretched out the campus may have looked, the school was somewhat small, allowing a close-knit feel.

"So," Rocky said twenty minutes later, around a bite of hamburger, "what are you doing this weekend? Second week of school down, time to celebrate." After waiting towards the back of the line the freshmen had made in their mad dash to get food after their morning classes, the two of them found a place on the lush green grass in the center square. "You still need a ride home?"

"Still need to hear back from my journalism group," Emily replied, carefully balancing a plate of spaghetti on her knees. "It sucks being stuck in a group with freshmen." Her shoulders dropped in a sigh. "Either I'm going to be working over the weekend a lot or staying after during the week a lot. I'll let you know either way as soon as I can."

"I'm not needed until four-ish on Friday, anyway, so just text me," Rocky replied. "But, I feel your pain. Either I'm going to be trying to get peace and quiet here or trying to get peace and quiet around my brothers."

Emily laughed. "Good luck with that," she replied.

"Don't I know it," Rocky muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, Rock, you know they'll miss you when you're gone."

"Not that they'd ever admit it." He'd miss his brothers, too. He planned on visiting a lot, but it was weird to think that soon he'd go from seeing his brothers every single day – and being annoyed by them every single day – to suddenly traveling home to hang out on occasion. At the same time, he and his younger brothers were closer than they had ever been.

They probably enjoyed him being out of their faces as much as he enjoyed them being out of his. Still, something as small as fighting over what to watch on TV, or what pizza toppings to choose from, he found himself increasingly longing for. He would probably even scarf down some anchovies if it meant some time at home.

"Therapy appointment?" Emily asked. Her eyebrows lowered when Rocky made a loud hissing sound, looking around to see if anyone was passing by. "There's nothing wrong with going to therapy," she said patiently as he went back to eating.

Rocky nodded as he chewed, setting down his burger. "I know," he agreed. Holding a hand in front of his mouth, he talked around the food. "And I know I need it. It's just that…" He made a show of swallowing. "People will start asking questions, and then I'll have to explain, and then they'll know."

"Is that really a bad thing?" Emily asked.

"There's a reason I go by 'Samuel' more often, ok?" Rocky explained. Not that it really mattered. It seemed like whenever they were in the news, it was a big thing for a short amount of time, and then it was, thankfully, forgotten. All it took was one Google search, and it'd be brought up all over again. "I mean, except for you." Turning away from her, he watched the branches above him sway with the gentle breeze that suddenly floated by.

The media swarm around his abduction and rescue when he was 13 was sort of cool. Sort of. Everyone wanted to be on TV at one point in their lives. The whole situation allowed himself and his brothers to prove to their dad that martial arts is worth studying. Sure, he could admit that they were reckless in the situation, but they had been trained well. Not just by their grandfather, but by him too; they stayed calm, they worked out a plan, they stuck together, and when the time came they fought back.

At 15, after helping the local Native American community, he was a little embarrassed when they focused on him and his brothers. The whole point was that no one was taking his new friend's culture and way of life seriously. That summer was a great learning opportunity. Not only with opening himself up to new experiences, but in learning to take responsibility for his actions, being a good listener, and to finally stop showing off. Emily sure got a kick out of that when he had told her the whole story.

Then at 16, after successfully thwarting a hostage attempt at the amusement park, he wanted all the cameras and microphones out of his face. Just like all those previous situations, he and his brothers were in the right place at the right time to lend a helping hand. He reacted the best way he knew how. Yes, things got out of control quickly, and he had help with movie magic tricks that sounded like something out of a novel. Unlike what people may have thought, he never went looking for trouble.

And that wasn't even discussing what happened in Japan.

People had to have been tired of seeing his name in the paper. He sure was.

"I hate being known as one of the 'Kidnapped Kids' or whatever it was that people called us," he said after a stretch of silence. "I'm tired of telling the same story over and over. It's not who I am. It's just something that happened to me." He quickly caught himself. "To us."

Emily made a show of eating her spaghetti as silence fell over the two of them.

"You should come over," he said. "Chill. Get a nice home cooked meal from my mom." He chuckled. "Make everyone else do work in a group project for once."

Emily hummed. "It almost sounds like you care."

He popped a French fry into his mouth. "I always cared," Rocky said, making a face.

"Not enough," Emily replied softly. She twirled her spaghetti around her fork. Rocky's chewing slowed as he watched the noodles collect, getting bigger and bigger by the second. Lifting the lump to her face, Emily gave a fleeting smile before sliding it into her mouth, cupping her free hand under her chin to catch droplets of sauce. "I've liked you for a long time, Rocky," she said after she swallowed, wiping sauce from her mouth with her napkin. "I've waited to see if your feelings would ever change about me. Kind of held out hope."

"Look. Em…"

"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad," Emily quickly explained, interrupting him. "I just want to explain to you how I feel." She brushed her hair out of her face. "You're one of my oldest friends. Growing up, I felt like I could tell you everything." She let out a nervous laugh. "Whenever I could get a word out around you, I mean."

Rocky cracked a smile. "That went both ways, I think," he said.

"Yeah, maybe."

And for a moment, they were kids again. On the cusp of puberty, too scared, nervous, excited to look each other in the eye. All they could do was trade off quick glances and smiles before bowing their heads. Faces bright red.

Emily cleared her throat. "I liked how we could talk, and I want to be able to do that again," she said. "I want to be honest with each other. About anything."

Rocky closed his eyes. "I am being honest," he said, upon opening them. "I'm fine. Therapy has been helping." Careful not to jostle his plate of a half-eaten burger and cold French fries, he threw his hands into the air. "I'm a senior. Next year we'll be in college. The year after that, we'll be declaring our majors. I've moved on."

"Have you?" Emily asked.

"Have _you_?" Rocky replied. "Raking in As here like it's nobody's business. Already decided Journalism major." He laughed a derisive laugh. "Or is that it? This is a story for you? An assignment? 'The Kids Who Were Kidnapped by Hugo Snyder: Where are They Now'?"

"Yeah, I didn't have enough material with my own experiences that night, so I thought I'd pimp you out," Emily replied, just as sarcastically. She gathered her belongings and leapt to her feet. Rocky wasn't far behind her. "Get real!"

His stomach sank. Rocky licked his lips, pressed them tightly together, bit down on them. He regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth. Regretted the hurt that was on her face. The Douglas family may have been directly involved with Snyder's plot for revenge, but she was a part of it, too. She had been ambushed. Had guns pointed in her face. Had nightmares for months afterwards.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm just…" Stressed? Worried? Anxious? All of the above, with no real reason for it. Except maybe his Literature exam. Maybe he could pass it off as that… "I'm just being a jerk. You're right, I'm not fine." He shrugged. "I try not to remember but…"

"I know the feeling," Emily said, voice laden in frustration. With one hand, she brushed the seat of her jeans and crossed the walkway to the trashcan. The trash bag shook when she slammed her plate into it. "Believe me." She held out her hand to take Rocky's plate, and threw it away as well. "Which is why it's so frustrating that you won't talk to me about it." With a frown, she turned around to face him. "I know I can't force you to talk, but maybe, occasionally, you could listen when I need to."

"You're right, you're right," Rocky admitted. He put a hand to his heart. "I apologize."

"I'm sorry, too," she replied. "I know I shouldn't keep pressuring you into trying to talk." Emily relaxed into a sheepish smile. "Maybe we could pass it off as my being a snoop?" Rocky laughed through his nose, shaking his head back and forth. "You know me: I like to know what's going on with people."

That was an understatement: Emily hated being left out or feeling like she missed something going on in people's lives. His brothers had always teased her saying that her being nosy, and always wanting to know "what's going on?" was the catalyst for her wanting to become a journalist. They may see it as being nosy, but she saw it as being caring for other people.

It was a fine line.

"Ok, truce," Rocky said as he held out his hand towards her. Emily laughed, shaking it. "I should go. I want to get some studying in before heading out to practice." He lifted his hands as if it were a scale, tilting it up and down. "No peace and quiet here, and no peace and quiet at home."

"Come on, you love it," Emily said as she shoved his shoulder. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you liked getting into trouble with your brothers."

"Pffft." Rocky scoffed. "Who likes getting in trouble? Trouble just follows us around." He started to walk backwards. "Just meet me at my car after classes on Friday, ok? I'll see you later." Hand lifted in a wave, he bid Emily goodbye and crossed the school campus to his locker. A sigh slipped past his lips when he stepped into the air-conditioned building, and he removed his hat.

His fingers twitched as he spun the lock and popped open his locker door. Glancing up and down the empty hallway, he reached into the back and retrieved a folded newspaper. He brought his thumb towards his mouth and bit down on the nail as he scanned the front page, checking each headline carefully. Then he moved through the rest of the paper. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed, only that he was jolted into awareness by a hand clamping down onto his shoulder, rapidly shaking him. He set his laptop aside before opening his door and greeted his friend, Jason.

"Hey, man," Jason commented, adjusting the bag hitched on his shoulder. The end of a baseball bat slid clacked against the metal locker as he did. "You ready to go? Lucas and Trent are meeting us outside the gym."

"Just need to grab my stuff," Rocky said as he slapped his hand into Joshua's in a hand shake. Shoving the newspaper deep into his locker, he grabbed his baseball bat from the corner, and the glove that hung from the hook at the top of his locker.

Slamming his locker door shut, Rocky felt himself relax. He had exhausted every avenue he could think of and it all came to the same conclusion: Hugo Snyder was still in prison where he was meant to be.

* * *

 **A/N:** While this first chapter is based on Rocky, this is actually more of a Colt-centered fic. I've been wanting to write this fic for the loooongest time and I'm glad I'm finally sharing it. If anyone who had read my or my sister's previous 3 Ninjas fics from aaaages ago (I mean, years and years), these can be considered re-writes of those.

So this story (and the movies' continuity as a result) are set in modern times. I think social media would be an interesting aspect to their story.

I have no idea what Emily's last name would be, so I just used her actress's name.

Thanks for reading.

-Rhuben


	2. Lasting Impression

**Chapter 02**

"Hurry up, Tum."

Tilting his head back, Jeffery "Colt" Douglas let the sky know just how frustrated he was with his little brother. If any teacher happened to walk by, he was sure he would guarantee himself a detention just by his choice of diction. While his appearance in detention had waned greatly over the years (much to his parents' delight), he still had his designated spot waiting for him should he ever need it.

Staring at the main entrance of the school, he silently willed for his brother to step through the heavy doors from the combined freshman-sophomore area. Spending seven hours a day in school was bad enough, he didn't want to waste any more of his time standing outside of it. Even the teachers were getting the chance to flee the four walls of torture. If only for the rest of the day.

Swinging his leg backwards, Colt struck the passenger side tire with his heel. Repeating the motion over and over again, he closed his eyes against the afternoon sun. He could send another text, but one was the same as a spamming of them; if they were seen, they were seen. With each forward swing of his leg, he imagined the feel of his instep striking a soccer ball in just the right spot to send it into the upper right-hand corner of a net. He could hear the sound of the rotating ball striking the taut net, sliding to the ground. _I can't believe I'm missing practice for this._

Sighing through his nose, he opened his eyes and checked the school doors again. Tum-Tum was taking so long, he could have actually gone to practice instead of just thinking about it. Years of martial-arts and baseball in the summer months made him restless during school. At least that's how everyone explained away his knack for getting into trouble. Joining the school's soccer team was not only a means to keep himself prepared for the summer. But, his dad let him know in no uncertain terms that if he followed Rocky to the school's baseball team, it would be a great way to maintain his skills.

And what better way to stay on his dear old dad's good side?

Soccer, he argued, was a way to stay in shape, keep up balance, flexibility, and endurance, not to mention gave him style points with trick shots. And it was one thing that Rocky didn't do. He couldn't deny it was a nice break from a sport his dad was heavily involved in, though it didn't stop him from calling out instructions from the sidelines – if he ever made it out to a game on time or at all. If Colt was being honest, soccer was also a means of staying out of the house long enough to avoid another tense and behind closed doors hushed talk from his parents.

Family therapy was supposed to help in that regard, he guessed. Who said they only had to discuss one topic during their appointments? There was no way he was going to be the one to bring up the fact that they were fighting so much. Rocky and Tum-Tum were as equally aware of it. They had their own conversations about it from time to time; just as hushed. Ones where Rocky and Colt had to reassure Tum-Tum that, no, their parents were not going to get a divorce. All said with a shared side-eyed glance from the eldest Douglas siblings.

Nevertheless, Tum-Tum would _need_ therapy when Colt got through with him. Of the physical variety. He may have had a few less years of studying martial arts than Colt, but he he could hold his own very well. Even Colt recognized that. When it came down to it though, his endurance couldn't outmatch Colt's speed. "Tum-Tum" while a ridiculous name from the beginning, one that gotten a huge laugh from young Michael himself, wasn't as weird of a name as it turned out. Tum-Tum had endurance even Rocky was impressed with. Colt's speed and power moves were flashy and got the job done, but he couldn't deny they took up a lot of his energy very quickly.

A rock skittered across the pavement. Gravel crunched. A hand clamped down on Colt's shoulder. A voice said, "Hey, man." Colt's eyes snapped open and his shoulder jerked, removing the grip on him. His backpack slipped off his shoulder and hit the ground by his feet. The heat lingered on his arm more intense than the sun. "You ok?"

Colt's mouth couldn't form any words as he stared at his best friend, Brett. Twisting his mouth to the side, he moved to retrieve his fallen bag, sliding his arms through the straps. "Yeah," he replied. His voice cracked, jumping up an octave. Brett started laughing and Colt made a face. "Oh, shut up!" He punched Brett on the arm. "Just waiting for Tum."

In return, Brett aimed a punch at Colt, who quickly blocked it with an outward swing of his arm. Colt smiled triumphantly. No one could land a move on him, he was too good. He wasn't named Colt for nothing. His speed, his martial arts skills, they weren't solely made for self-defense. With his years of quick, and light footwork, he was a strong forward on the soccer field, and just as fast as his namesake.

 _Colt._ He remembered when he thought of the name with disdain. He had been confused when his grandpa had christened him with the new name upon successful completion of the ultimate test in his ninja lessons. Compared to "Jeffrey" it was really out there. If his grandpa had decided that it was the best name for him, that he recognized that he was "fast and free" with the "spirit of a young wild horse," than it was something to be proud of.

His grandpa saw something in him. He would take the time to listen to everything that Colt had on his mind, no matter what. Whether it was something as small as an argument between his brothers, or a disagreement with his parents, his grandpa would give him his undivided attention. What his dad would see as being rambunctious, irresponsible, and impulsive, his grandpa would see as powerful, cunning, and controlled – to an extent. A reprimand here or there about his overconfidence wasn't out of the question. His impulsiveness wasn't always a bad thing. If he couldn't adapt to everything that happened around him so quickly, he wouldn't be as skilled as he was.

"How do you think you did on that history assignment?" Brett asked. He rolled his eyes at Colt's smug look.

Colt, happy for the distraction of still waiting for his brother, yet frustrated that he was still surrounded by all things school, turned to fully face his best friend. Sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, he flicked his shoulder length hair out of his face. His dad called it permanent bedhead hair. Unkempt. Unprofessional. All those reasons and more as to why Colt decided to keep it that way. He wasn't for the clean-cut public servant (see: police) look. He wasn't like his dad.

A fact both of them recognized and butted heads over.

"I stayed up all night working on it, so I better have done well. My dad's going to have something to say about it if I don't," he replied. Brett hummed, slowly nodding his head. "And my mom." Brett made a face. "Yeah, exactly."

His mother, Jessica Douglas, was a people person. She liked everybody. Whenever new families arrived in the neighborhood, she would have a pie waiting for them and offer to help with the movie; which also meant she volunteered her sons to help with the moving. Colt and his brothers (lovingly) referred to it as being "voluntold." If anyone needed rides to and from school, she was the first to offer. Her ears were always open whenever anyone needed someone to vent to or to get advice from. And, most important of all, she was a great cook.

But the minute you got on her bad side, you would be lucky to leave unscathed. Having his father, Samuel Douglas Sr., on his case about his grades and everything else under the sun was a common occurrence. Having his mother on his back about anything was a whole different thing entirely. Rule of thumb in the Douglas home: never make mom angry. It was nine times worse than when his dad would use his "work voice."

"Sucks, man."

"It's just because of college apps," Colt said with a shrug of his shoulders, "or whatever."

"Don't I know it." Brett snorted. "It's like they're the ones applying to college, not me." Colt nodded in agreement. If he had to have one more after dinner talk about all the schools his father thought would be a good fit for him ("once you decide what you want to go to school for" he was constantly reminded with the most pointed stare imaginable), he would explode. "So, you free to chill tonight?" Colt was thankful for the topic change despite already knowing he'd have to turn down the offer. "I was thinking of heading down to the pool hall."

"Nah, I can't," Colt replied. His gaze shifted away from his friend and back to the school as the doors opened and Tum-Tum appeared. Finally.

A smile, one that was half amusement, and half annoyance, came to Colt's face when he spotted the reason for his brother's lateness. Nothing could ever really stop Tum-Tum for barging out of school, excited to get home to his afternoon snack. Except for maybe girls.

Tum-Tum held onto the dangling straps of his backpack as he walked, smiling at the girl walking beside him. She had a literal bounce in her step (who wouldn't now that school was out?) and laughed along to whatever it was that Tum-Tum was telling her. With Tum's long legs, he could easily cross the parking lot quickly, but each slow step forward made it clear that he wanted to take his time.

"I have things to do," Colt said, answering Brett's question, "family stuff. I really can't miss it." _No matter how much I wish I could._ "I need to get Tum home or mom will send out a search team."

"No problem," Brett replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'll catch you later." Using his shoulder to push himself off of Colt's car, he tilted his head upwards in a nod.

Colt returned the nod with one of his own. "Yeah. For sure. I'll be online tonight." Turning his attention back to his brother, Colt cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Yo, Tum! Let's go!"

Tum-Tum waved his hand in the air, keeping his smile for the girl he was trying to charm. Rolling his eyes, Colt started across the parking lot. He had to give his baby brother some props: it did look like he was trying, and the girl seemed to be receptive to his flirting.

Tum-Tum had always been the "adorable" kid in the family. A fact he used to his advantage. A lot. As he got older it continued to work in his favor. A trembling lip, wide brown eyes, and anyone would be eating out of the palm of his hands. Matching that with who his older brothers were, and Colt predicted that he would have the run of the school by the time his senior year rolled around. In fact, he wasn't too bad for himself now.

He lost all his baby weight. He got taller. He gained muscle mass between wrestling and playing baseball. Yet he never lost his craving for junk food. That never seemed to be a problem for him. His metabolism could literally be compared to a garbage disposal. The weight barely had the chance to stay on him. Somehow, he had gotten through the initial stages of puberty with a chiseled jaw and, even more extraordinarily, without braces. Even Rocky had to deal with braces and glasses.

Not that Colt was jealous. At all. He just had to live through a giant forehead, a big nose, and ears that stuck out. And all three had been accentuated by equally bad haircuts. Being called "Horsey" or "Pony Boy" from Darren and his crew was bad enough. But, like usual, his mom was right. He grew into his features, and people, and girls, seemed to take notice.

"Come on, Tum, we've got to roll," Colt said to Tum-Tum, stopping a few feet away from him. Tum-Tum glanced at Colt out of the corner of his eye, widening them. Message received: go away. Rocky had given the same look enough times over the years whenever he wanted privacy. As a brother, it was Colt's duty to embarrass, pry, and annoy them, just like they did to him on numerous occasions. He wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Tum-Tum said to the girl, lifting his hand in a small wave. He followed Colt across the parking lot, a couple of steps behind him. Neither of them said a thing until they were situated in Colt's car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"That was Amy, right?" Colt asked, sliding a pair of sunglasses over his eyes upon stopping at a red light.

"Mhm." Tum-Tum unfastened his seat belt and reached into the backseat for his backpack. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Colt pressed his elbow onto the windowsill, watching his brother. Retrieving a bag of grapes from a side pocket, Tum-Tum popped one in his mouth before holding it out to Colt. Making a face at the warm water that used to be a couple of ice cubes at the bottom, Colt plucked out a couple of grapes, popping them into his mouth.

"Hey, Colt?" Tum-Tum asked, settling back in his seat. Colt briefly looked at Tum-Tum out of the corner of his eye before setting them on the road, pressing on the gas pedal as the light turned green. Tum-Tum slowly slid a grape into his mouth, staring intently at the dashboard in front of him. "Do you think I did ok? Talking to her, I mean?"

"Amy?" Tum-Tum nodded. "She was smiling a lot. That's a good sign." Colt noticed Tum-Tum's silence. The guy practically gold medaled in being able to coherently talk around a mouthful of food. There was barely a moment where Tum-Tum wasn't talking. "Don't you think?"

Tum-Tum's nose wrinkled as he chewed. "Girls are always smiley," he said.

"True." Colt laughed. "Though you did make her laugh." Tum-Tum shrugged. "She seemed interested in whatever you were talking about. All good signs."

"Yeah." Tum-Tum seemed to sit up straighter in his seat. "Yeah, it is." He smiled to himself, sliding grape after grape into his mouth. Clenching them all between his teeth, he hit Colt's elbow with the back of his hand. "'Ook at vis." Colt took in Tum-Tum's faux green smile a second before his brother clamped his teeth together, sending grape juice sliding down his chin, and squirting through the air.

"Geeze, Tum," Colt laughed. He removed his arm from the window sill and grasped the steering wheel. With his right hand, he punched Tum-Tum on the shoulder. Coughing, Tum-Tum used his shirt sleeve to wipe at the juice and saliva that dribbled down his chin. "Ha! That's what you get." Tum-Tum just coughed in response.

The rest of the fifteen-minute drive home was filled with silence save for the music playing through the radio that Colt cranked up. After finishing his grapes, Tum-Tum quickly tackled a packet of peanut M&Ms. As soon as Colt swung his car into the driveway, Tum-Tum jumped out before he had turned it off to make his usual after school stop in the kitchen. Killing the engine, Colt retrieved his backpack from the backseat of his car. Bypassing the unusual sight of his father's car parked in the driveway so early in the day, Colt stepped into the house, calling an "I'm home," as he closed the door behind him.

"Hey, mom," Colt greeted his mom as he stepped into the kitchen. Tum-Tum was already at the kitchen table, scarfing down apple slices with peanut butter. Colt dropped his backpack into his chair and crossed the kitchen to give his mother a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "Awesome. Lasagna."

"Hi, honey." Jessica briefly paused in wrapping a sheet around the baking dish in her hands. "How was school today?"

"Fine." Colt reached past her to pluck an orange out of the bowl sitting in the middle of the island. "It was school." He put his attention on peeling the orange. "How was your day?"

Such a normal question. Yet it held a lot of weight. In the Douglas household, times were always tense around this time of year.

Jessica was more hands on with everything involving the household. More in some ways than usual. Mail was checked thoroughly. Every door and window lock were checked before retiring to bed – two to three times when Sam was working late. As part of her routine, she made sure to check in on each of her three boys before heading to bed. Lending a listening ear if a conversation was ever needed, removing textbooks, pencils, and pens from beds if any of them fell asleep while completing work, or just pulling kicked bedsheets back up over their bodies.

Samuel covered everything outside of the home. Every hour he put into work was making sure his family stayed safe. His home office door was not only shut more often, but it was used more often. Patrol cars were assigned to keep an eye on the neighborhood and his father-in-law's residence. He stayed on top of things in the house as well. Curfew times were tightened, and the boys practically had to jump through hoops to be able to hang out with friends. Chores were double checked, discussions revolving around school work was a nightly occurrence, and he made sure to keep up on their sporting ventures.

When they were together, things were different. It was forced optimism in which the light didn't exactly reach their eyes when they smiled. It was constant reassurances that everything was ok. But Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum could see through it all, and tried to avoid being any extra source of stress.

"Jefferey!"

Which, surprise, surprise, Colt had in fact not been able to accomplish. What was it this time? He didn't get his chores done? Left his clothes basket in the laundry room again? Didn't clean out his car in a timely fashion? Had to be asked two times too many to turn down the volume of his amp when practicing guitar? Either way, he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Going to hop in the shower, mom," he said, leaving the orange peel on the island.

"Make it fast, ok?" Jessica asked, closing the refrigerator door. "Michael needs to take a shower, too. And we're already cutting it close." She glanced at her watch. "We need to be out the door in forty-five minutes."

"Got it."

"You were supposed to be home a half an hour ago."

"I know, I know." Colt shoved a chunk of orange slices into his mouth. Cheek poking out from the piece of fruit, he said, "Talking about it isn't going to make me shower faster."

For a brief moment, Jessica closed her eyes. She sighed through her nose, calming herself. Upon opening them, she nodded towards the stairs and said, "Hurry up."

Munching on an orange slice, Colt gave a thumbs up to his mom. He took the stairs two at a time and kicked his bedroom door shut behind him. Throwing his half-eaten orange onto his bed he crossed the room to his closet, removing his shirt as he did so.

He thought he would have had his own room by now: Rocky was able to move into his own room about four years before. Here Colt was 16 years old and he was still sharing with his baby brother. At least they didn't have their bunk beds, anymore. The room was big enough to essentially divide it in half. Plus, he had gotten too tall to use a trampoline to jump into bed.

"Jeffrey."

"Thanks for knocking," Colt said to his dad as he barged into the room. "You're as bad as Tum."

"We both agreed that you would be home right after school, Jeffery," Sam said, ignoring his son's comment. "We're already running late as it is."

Deciding on a simple navy-blue button up shirt, Colt turned around to face his dad. "We did come straight home," he said. "No stopping to get ice cream or anything. You can smell Tum's breath if you don't believe me."

"You know exactly what I mean," Sam replied. "I just asked you to do one thing for me today. Rocky even got home on time."

"Someone say my name?" Rocky asked. He leaned into the room, sliding a comb through his drying hair. "Bathroom's free."

"Great, I call it," Colt said to his brother. He set his attention back on his dad. "We just got held up, dad, that's all. Chill. We're here now, right?" He lifted his eyebrows, eyes widening in annoyance. "Can I go shower now? Or do you want to use that as the reason why we're all late to therapy? I'm sure Dr. Abbott can find some deep meaning behind it."

Rocky bowed his head, chuckling. When Sam slowly turned to look at his eldest son, Rocky turned his laugh into a cough. "We talked about this the other day, Jeffery," Sam said. "What was it that made you late?"

"Uhhh." Colt glanced past his dad and over to Tum-Tum who stood at the top of the stairs, one foot poised in the air. Tum-Tum looked from Rocky, to their dad, to Colt with wide eyes. Girls was a conversation better to have with their mom than their dad. If the conversation were to be had at all. Giving his brother a quick reassuring look, Colt looked his dad in the eye and said, "I forgot."

"You forgot?" Sam repeated. He shook his head back and forth. "When we get back, Colt, we're going to have a long talk about time management and how your actions affect others. Your mother was starting to worry."

"Sorry."

"Just get showered so we can go."

"Whatever."

Tum-Tum pulled down the corners of his mouth in an apologetic face as he stepped into the room. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't worry about it, Tum," Colt said, gathering his clothing. "It's not a big deal."

"What was that all about?" Rocky asked when Colt stepped out into the hallway. "What made you guys so late, anyway?"

"You remember that girl, Amy, Tum was talking about a lot last year?" Colt asked.

A thoughtful look crossed Rocky's face. "Amy, Amy," he repeated. His face cleared, and he gasped in recognition. "Amy Everhart?"

"Yeah, her. Tum was talking with her after school. I think it went well."

"Nice. Go, Tum." Rocky nodded his approval. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, giving Colt a pointed look. "Let's just hope our session today is just as good." Colt rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one who doesn't enjoy going, but we don't exactly have a choice."

"Yeah, yeah." Colt stepped past Rocky and into the bathroom. Gazing into his reflection in the mirror, Colt snorted. No one would be dumb enough to choose to be kidnapped.


	3. Unsaid Things

**Chapter 03**

Hugo Snyder's face was engraved in Colt's memory. He didn't need a picture to see the cold, calculated look set deep in the man's brown eyes. Or the tight, yet gleeful, smile on Snyder's face whenever things were going well with his plan. Even in a mugshot – his father had insisted that they use the more formal term "booking photograph" – Hugo Snyder had every hair in place.

If he wasn't already in the middle of his family therapy sessions, Colt was sure he would be committed to sessions on the spot. Wanting to take a flame to Snyder's mugshot probably wasn't a good sign, either. Still, he had nothing to say to the man. A picture couldn't talk back. Or listen, for that matter.

"Jeffery?"

Colt tore his gaze away from Snyder's burning gaze and they landed on Dr. Abbott.

He was a patient man. You had to be in this kind of work, Colt supposed. Through highs and lows of therapy, the breakthroughs versus the breakdowns, he would sit back and watch everything that happened. Observations and note taking was his default mode but would know when to jump in to break up a fight, or to remind them all that they needed to lower their voices and speak as calmly as possible. Most annoyingly, he would remind them in his quiet, yet authoritative voice, that they really needed to "listen to each other." He had an openness about him that made Colt feel ok talking with him, even if he didn't want to.

The fact that no one ever talked when someone else did was a big clue that they were, in fact, listening.

Colt even listened as he took the time to look around the room. It was too awkward, and admittedly sometimes too hard, to look his family in the eye when discussing something so personal. Even if they were all doing it. Still, his eyes would search the room as if he was new to the room and not a pretty frequent visitor.

Starting in the back corner of the room, where Dr. Abbott's desk was situated in front of, the back of his chair facing the corner. One wall was adorned with diplomas, the other meeting it in the corner filled with family photos. Pictures of a sunset, a beach with crashing waves, and an expansive field stretched around the walls. Inspiration posters joined them.

The dark wood desk matched the leather of the cushy chair behind it. And the other furnishings of the room, including the trim around the windows, the curtains, the couches, and the chair that Colt was currently perched in. Apart from the gray carpet, it was the only color in the room besides with white walls. In front of Dr. Abbott's desk sat a coffee table in front of a couch, almost like a little waiting room in the office. Situated by the window on the other side of the room was a long couch, where Rocky and Tum-Tum were seated at opposite ends of; the chair Colt was sitting in with his back to the window; a smaller couch to his left had his parents on it; and across form him another chair that held Dr. Abbott. In between them was a circular glass coffee table, where Hugo Snyder's picture .

"Sorry," Colt said, shifting in his chair. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking you what you thought of my suggesting this date for this therapy session," Dr. Abbott said, repeating his question. He used the cap position on the end of his pen to scratch the scruff on his chin. "Considering it's not at our usual time to meet this time of year?"

"I figured you were just busy," Colt replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, dad picks a time when it's best for us to all come in, right?"

"That's correct," Dr. Abbott agreed. "I've been seeing your family every year without fail on the date of your kidnapping – for three years now." He shrugged his shoulders. "Otherwise, since our initial meeting, it's been once a month, down to once every three months, down to whenever you would like to schedule a time. Except this one date has always been consistent." He started twiddling the pen back and forth between his fingers. "Now we're here meeting two weeks later."

"I suppose," Colt said, scratching at his eyebrow, "so you can see how we're doing in the aftermath or something?"

"Right." Dr. Abbott smiled. "So, what's up? Your dad mentioned in his one on one that you forgot we were having therapy today?"

Colt chuckled. "I didn't forget."

"Then, why did you tell your father that you did when he questioned why you were late getting home?"

"Because, sometimes, it's easier to just have dad unload on me than on my brothers," Colt replied, pushing a sigh out of his mouth. "It's nothing out the ordinary by now, anyway."

"You're always butting heads."

"Not always." Colt briefly looked over at his dad, who tightened his lips that were already pressed together. _In the morning, if he's around. Sometimes we're even lucky to get a round two at night if he's back on time._ "It's just disagreements. Who doesn't disagree with their parents at my age?"

"Parents just don't understand, right?" Dr. Abbott asked. Colt shrugged. "I remember that feeling well. They may surprise you; they were teenagers once, too." He tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling. "Although, I understand it is hard to remember."

"I guess."

"Your father has always had some tension with your grandfather regarding your martial arts training."

Tension.

If that's how he wanted to describe it, sure.

The two of them could barely be in a room with each other without eventually getting into some kind of altercation. Ones masked with light tones and smiles. No topic was off limits. They could be talking about the weather and eventually it would turn into something about the other they didn't agree with. Most times, it left his mom deciding between defending her father or defending her husband.

The two insisted that it was how things had always been between them. They did get along well, but also had topics they disagreed on. It was normal. That didn't stop Colt or his brothers from feeling like they were in the middle, too. Only they couldn't say anything about it. It felt like betraying one or the other if they were to defend them. And if things really were ok, what was the point of saying anything at all? Even Rocky would insist it from time to time. And Colt _certainly_ couldn't say anything, or he wouldn't be listened to.

Not like he ever was. Not by his father, at least. Sure, frustration was evident in his voice whenever he did try and defend himself, or even bring up subjects he wanted to talk about, but who wouldn't be frustrated if they were always brushed off? If they were immediately told to "calm down" whenever they decided to open their mouths even when they were? He was always on edge when discussing things with his father, just waiting for the conversation to turn into a lecture.

His grandpa was different. No matter the topic, he would listen. He would ask questions. He would make sure he understood what he was thinking and why he was thinking it. Even if it was a trivial school Whenever Colt would get frustrated if he couldn't pick up a new maneuver fast enough, his grandpa would know when to give him some space, and when to stay on him. To push him harder.

So around his dad, or any authority figure really, Colt often kept his mouth shut. That was, until he got tired of being silent. Which meant that at times things would slip out before he thought about it.

"But, I gather, that's not the conflict as of late, given he's been more understanding of how important it is in your life," Dr. Abbott said. "We've both heard in these sessions that he's proud that you and your brothers have kept up with it, haven't used it to attack others, lots of good things."

"Yeah, and I'm happy about that," Colt admitted. He had angled his body slightly towards his dad, allowing the words to reach him as well. "He's really backed off on some things." He shrugged. "It's ok."

"Some things. But, not all." Dr. Abbott moved to sit up straighter in his seat. "Jeffery, we've had your parents and your brothers go through their one-on-ones today already. They all talked about how this past year has gone for them, how they've continued to process everything that occurred. What's gotten better, and what needs more work. What is it that you've felt hasn't changed?"

"I don't know." Colt stalled. This was the part of therapy he hated. When he had to provide answers to questions he didn't even want to talk about.

"Those are filler words," Dr. Abbott reminded him, pen poised above his notepad.

That bothered him too. Dr. Abbott wasn't the type that really tried to make sure he was paid by the hour. He certainly knew how to say on a topic and get the answers he wanted, though. Colt had been told many times that filler words were just used to stall, give a person time to think, or to try and not commit to a topic. Apparently, he used it a lot (more specifically the word "Whatever") whenever he started to "shut down" on a conversation.

If by "shut down", Dr. Abbott meant Colt wasn't getting anywhere, and no one was listening to him, sure. What was the point in trying to finish, let alone start a conversation with his dad, or anyone, if they were only going to listen until they heard something they didn't like. At least Rocky and Tum-Tum listened to everything he had to say before deciding that they weren't going to listen to him because he was being a "dork" or a "spaz."

Talk about brother loyalty.

"Nothing is too small to discuss," Dr. Abbott reminded him. "We can talk about anything and everything you want."

"And if I want to talk about nothing?"

"There's always something. Your mom and dad just want to understand you and your brothers better. They care. Despite how much you may think that's not the case."

Colt blinked, taken aback. "Of course I know that they care," he said. Sure, it didn't always feel like it, and he was quick to denounce the very same whenever he was having an issue, he was undoubtedly sure he would have to deal with on his own, but they were his parents for crying out loud. "Dad wouldn't have had the whole FBI looking for us when we were taken." He opened and closed his mouth. "Thanks for doing that, dad."

"Of course, son," Sam replied.

He didn't think he had ever said that. Rocky did for sure and Colt of course shared the sentiment. But he couldn't remember if he had ever said those words himself.

Their dad had passed off the thanks as them being heroes. Maybe it was his way of being a father: it was his job and duty to protect. Not unlike what his job had needed of him. But Colt saw the look in his eye that night. Even years later, he could still feel his mom's coat wrapped around his shoulders, he could still smell of her perfume surrounding him like a hug, and he remembered the look that had passed between his parents. Relief. Worry. Happiness. Love. So much in just a couple of seconds. A private moment between husband and wife that he had sort of felt guilty of witnessing.

"I saw his face that night, when we were getting pizza," Colt said after an extended stretch of silence. "Things hadn't really hit me yet. You know, of what had happened. I was excited about getting pizza. I could still practice martial arts, too. That's all I was thinking about."

"That's understandable. Everything was happening all at one time, it may take a while for you to calm down enough to acknowledge what it is you are feeling. What's more, how to react to it." Dr. Abbott waved his hand in the air. "Go on."

"Rocky, Tum, and I, we were just stuffing our faces with as much pizza as we could eat. Grandpa doesn't like pizza that much, but even he was enjoying himself. Mom and dad were too, but it was different."

"Different how?"

Colt pressed his lips together. He pulled his mouth to one side of his face as he thought. "Not in a bad way," he explained. "They were always just watching. Watching us eat, talk about how we had escaped, playing the arcade games. I don't think Rock and Tum noticed." Colt looked at his brothers out of the corner of his eye. Rocky's eyebrows were furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. Tum-Tum had pulled a knee to his chest and played with a thread on the seam of his pants. They were both listening. "On the ride home, grandpa was in the backseat with us. We were all falling asleep. I don't think mom ever took her eyes off us. She just watched us sleep. Dad would keep checking on us in the rear view mirror."

Colt kept his eyes fixed on Dr. Abbott who was slowly nodding.

"We got home, waited for the police to do one more sweep of the house at mom's request, and then got ready for bed. I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water and saw the two of them in dad's office. Dad was sitting at his desk like usual. Mom was with him. They were crying. I hadn't ever seen dad like that before."

"Like how?"

"I don't know." Dr. Abbott cleared his throat. Filler words. "Defeated. Anyway, they saw me and started telling me that everything was ok. They were fine. Things were fine." Colt shrugged. "I couldn't do anything but believe them." He laughed through his nose. "Even now, whenever they tell me that everything is fine, I have to believe them."

"Do you believe them?"

"I still see that same look on their faces every year around this time," Colt said with a soft scoff. "They both insist that they're ok." He made a face. "As if I haven't heard that so many times in my life."

"You're being sarcastic. This isn't the only time you've witnessed this sort of behavior?"

Colt laughed, shaking his head. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling; not exactly a roll of his eyes. "My grandma died when I was six," Colt explained. He rubbed one hand past the other before clasping them in his lap. "Rock was eight, so Tum was about four at the time. He doesn't remember her much. Sometimes I think that's a good thing."

"How so?"

"Before my grandpa moved up to his cabin full time, it really was just a place they stayed in the summer. He and grandma lived in a house closer to town," Colt explained. A fond smile of memory came to his face. "We started our ninja training at their house. Grandma would always have lemonade and cookies, or some other kind of treat ready for us when we were done. And the first aid kit, of course."

"But, um, after a while, our trips there had lessened. They just lived on the other side of town and it'd be months since we'd see them. I would always ask…" Colt briefly looked over at his parents. Sam gently took Jessica's hand. "I would always ask why we didn't see them, or what was wrong, but I was always told 'Everything is ok', or 'Grandma is fine, nothing to worry about'."

"You didn't believe them."

"No."

"Why not?"

"As much as dad thinks otherwise, I do actually pay attention and think about other people." Dr. Abbott's eyebrows lifted. He bent his head and scribbled a note on the pad propped up in his lap. Colt's sarcasm was bound to give him a fair few points to come back to later. "I saw how worried mom was. It always looked like she was just crying or about to start. It wasn't until I was older that I realized that mom and dad didn't want us around grandma the sicker she was. I think she worried we'd get scared or something, but she was gone like _that._ " He snapped his fingers. "Then grandpa moved to the cabin and we were visiting him there all the time."

"And it was at your grandpa's cabin you had found the picture of him, your grandma, and—" Dr. Abbott leaned forward and tapped the picture of Snyder situated between them. Colt felt himself tense, fighting the urge to take the picture and rip it to shreds in front of him. "Hugo Snyder."

"Yep."

"You're tense. You're angry."

"No. Well, maybe. Not at him, though."

"Who are you angry with?"

Colt pressed his lips together, biting down the backs of them. Lifting his hands to his face, he scratched at his hair line before burying his fingers into his hair. "We got back from grandpa's cabin and we didn't say anything about what had happened at the cabin," he said.

"From what I understand," Dr. Abbott flipped back through his notepad, "you and Samuel and Michael had agreed that you wouldn't let him know. You were worried that he would stop you from seeing your grandfather."

"I wouldn't have done that," Sam protested. He ignored Jessica's shushing, and patting of his hand. "No, Jessica, I need to say this."

"It's Jeffery's time to talk, Sam," Jessica reminded him.

"I know, I just…" Sam's nostrils flared. He leaned forward in his seat, looking Dr. Abbott in the eye. "I know how much they love him—" He paused in his sentence, turning his attention to his sons. "I wouldn't have done that. I just don't want any of you to get hurt. You very well could have."

"Yeah, well, we didn't." Colt crossed his arms over his chest. "Grandpa knows what he's doing. If he hadn't taught us how to defend ourselves, we would have gotten hurt." He wet his lips. "We wouldn't have been able to get ourselves out of there if we didn't use what we had learned."

"I understand that. I'm glad you and your brothers would be able to think quickly on your feet, but—"

"How is it any different than what you taught us to do in case of emergencies?" Colt asked. "You had us memorize yours and mom's work numbers basically since we could talk; how to be aware of our surroundings; timing our trip to and from school; where we keep the extra house key; when and how to answer the door when we're home alone. We got it! We know how to take care of ourselves. God!"

"None of those involve you having to physically harm someone."

"Ok, sure, but wouldn't it be better to know how to make sure we don't get attacked, or mugged, or kidnapped…?" Colt's words died on his lips. Jessica lifted a hand to her mouth. Sam made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Whatever. It doesn't matter now."

"Ok. Good." Dr. Abbott lowered his pen and twisted his wrist towards his face to gaze at the time on his watch. "Good. I think we've all made some great progress today, so this is where we're going to end our session. Until the next time I see you, I would like you to work on being more open with each other. Understand that there are things you can't go too deep into detail with, whether it's work related, or you're just not comfortable discussing, but let each other know that's the case. It's little things like that, that makes us as humans feel like we're being heard, and respected."

* * *

The Douglases were barely back at home when Sam had called for Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum to join him in their backyard with their baseball gear. If there was one way Samuel Douglas knew how to blow off steam, it was by practicing baseball.

Music was more Colt's speed; as evidenced by the loud music his dad had him shut off when making the announcement of the impromptu practice. Grumbling, he did as he was told. He already had to miss one practice that day, why miss another one? Even Colt could agree that hardly anything felt better than a diving catch, executing a well-practiced play resulting in a double, and even rarer a triple play. Not to mention just getting a hit at all felt pretty good.

Being the one to win the little league championship felt even better. He could remember the feel of the baseball bat between his fingers, how firm yet gently he gripped the cap of the bat. It took ages for the adrenaline to wear off after crossing home plate, and even longer for the smile that was on his face to disappear. He could feel all the power in his swing starting from the twist of his toes, up his legs, through his back, and into his arms.

 _Crack_!

The ball hit his bat's sweet spot just right to get a home run. He had been chasing that high ever since. Truth be told, he was sure his dad was trying to get that out of him again ever since. So, with a headband holding his long hair back, he stood in the backyard with his brothers, watching as their dad pulled ball basket after ball basket out of the garage. Their own personal bats and batting gloves laid at their feet, waiting to be used.

"Warm ups, let's go," Sam called, clapping his hands together. Tugging the brim of his faded orange Dragons hat, he stepped up to a basket of baseballs, gripping it in his hand. "Look alive, boys." They started with a simple game of catch. Sam would always start with the ball before throwing to one of his sons, who would pass it to the others before throwing it back to their dad to start all over again.

Rocky was up first, throwing each ball with the pitcher's precision he had mastered over the years. He ran after each ball, shifting his weight from side to side for quick maneuvers. Ball glove stuffed into his arm pit, Colt closed one eye against the setting sun, watching his brother. "Nice heat on that one," Sam would comment, rolling aside the ball he easily caught. "Keep them coming, each one just like that. Good, son. Great job."

After fifteen minutes, Rocky's turn was done. His shirt stuck to him with sweat. His shirt and shorts were stained from grass and dirt. Blades of grass stuck to his shins, some making it up to the side of his neck. With the back of his arm, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, using the other to slap an encouraging hit to Colt's arm as he was beckoned forward.

"Come on, dad, let's see if you've still got it," Colt said, sliding his fingers into his mitt. He barely had time to react, spotting the spinning blotch of white careening at his face. Reflexively moving his hand in front of his face, the ball landed in the pocket of his glove.

"Good one," Sam said with a hint of a smile. Colt tossed the baseball to the side, preparing himself for the next one. "Now try this one." The ball shot towards him before hooking out to his right. Colt quickly took quick crossover steps to the side, sticking out his glove as he did so. His knee hit the ground first and he twisted his body to ensure his hip and elbow hit the ground first. "Good!"

Left. Right. Left. Right. Screw balls. Curve balls. Sliders. Fast balls. They all came one after another. Colt pinched the collar of his shirt, pulling it up over his face to stem the sweat that started dripping down his face. Legs burning, he pushed himself to not slow down, even as he started growing tired. Rocky and Tum-Tum had it easy to some extent: because of their positions when fielding, they didn't have to move as much, as far, as often. Their one-on-ones were catered more towards their somewhat sedimentary roles.

"Get behind the ball. You've got it, Jeffery, keep pushing. Snap the glove shut as soon as you feel it. Keep moving. You have to explode off that first step."

As shortstop, he was used to so many hits flying in his direction. He was also used to colliding with other players, taking elbows to his chest, and cleats to his shins. Still, he stooped over, massaging his shin when Tum-Tum took his abandoned position.

"For what it's worth," Rocky said as soon as Colt was by his side, "I think about what would happen if we told mom and dad about the cabin all the time." He wet his lips, eyes trained on Tum-Tum. "We didn't know anything like this was going to happen, though."

"Right, I know," Colt replied. He scratched the back of his head. "Anything interesting in the newspaper lately?" Rocky didn't answer. "Come on, Rock, I know it's not just used to find things to talk to Emily about. She can always find a reason to talk to you."

"Oh, shut up," Rocky said, shoving Colt's shoulder. "I invited her over for dinner on Friday, by the way."

"How's she been doing?" It was so strange how they could bring someone into their world, into their adventures, and then drift away from each other. Emily was still on the cusp of his life and Colt felt some sense of relief in that fact. Occasionally, they would get letters from Jo Lightning keeping them up to date on everything with her rebuilding community. Letters had all but stopped over the years from Miyo, having to take weeks just to cross international borders.

"From what I can tell, she's been doing great. We haven't caught up in a while, and I know things are kind of hard for her this time of year, too." Rocky shrugged. "Thought I'd reach out."

"You're so noble," Colt said flatly, earning another shove. "So, nothing in the papers?" Rocky shook his head back and forth. "That's good at least. If anything with Snyder happened, it'd be front page news, wouldn't you think?"

"For sure," Rocky replied. He made a clicking sound with his mouth, otherwise he stayed silent. "You're wrong about one thing, though."

"Surprise, surprise." Colt adjusted the band pulling his hair back. "What was I wrong about?"

"I noticed how mom and dad were, too," Rocky explained. "I just didn't realize _you_ had noticed. I'm the big brother, I'm supposed to make sure you and Tum can just go through life." He twisted his mouth to the side. "If anyone should have told mom and dad, it's me. They were expecting as much, anyway."

Colt pulled his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

Rocky suddenly looked tired. "You have no idea how many times mom has started a conversation with 'I hate to ask you this, but'." He massaged his forehead with his fingertips as if he was getting a headache. Maybe he was, Colt mused. "And dad's always asking if I know what's up with you guys, if something is up with you guys. And telling me to look out for you and Tum."

Colt was surprised. Being the oldest, sometimes even the youngest, always looked better than being the middle child. Rocky had a later curfew and could always go out with his friends. Being protective came with the territory of being the oldest, it wasn't supposed to be something that had to be told to him.

Maybe Rocky had to deal with more than Colt realized. His "he'll hate 'em" in response to Colt's excitement about their Day of Names sounded old hat now that he thought back on it. As if he had gone through it a lot and was trying to save everyone's time and energy. He had two years' worth of training before Colt started up with his training, and not once did he ever openly discuss it with their dad whenever they got home.

"Rock, I didn't know."

"That's ok," Rocky replied. "I didn't want you to know."

"Boys."

Colt reacted with a start. Part of him moved to slap his hands down by his sides and stand at attention. Then he realized who it was that was speaking. "Sorry," Rocky instantly apologized. "What were you saying, dad?"

Sam was quiet for a moment before almost lazily throwing the ball in his hand into the air. They all watched the ball rise and then fall. "I just…I want to apologize to you," he said.

Wait. What? First looking right out of the corner of his eye at Rocky, then the left towards Tum-Tum whose hands were planted on his hips, chest heaving, he wanted to make sure that he had actually heard what he just heard. "Apologize?" he repeated.

"Apologize for what?" Tum-Tum asked. Slowly crossing the backyard, he picked up his abandoned chest protector and pulled it on over his head. "Unless you mean apologize for the fact that we're not having pizza for dinner." Rocky and Colt chuckled.

"Apologize for making you all worry," Sam explained. He tossed the baseball back and forth between his hands. "I promise, nothing is going on with Snyder. Your mom and I will always have that worry at the back of our minds that something could happen." He stepped closer towards his three sons. "Coming home to find the house like we did…" He shook his head. "I've seen a lot of things with my job, but that's the most scared I've ever been in my life. Your mom and I just want to make sure it never happens again. We just never realized how much you've been noticing."

"It's ok, dad," Rocky replied.

Sam shook his head. "I appreciate it, son," he replied. "I couldn't, and still can't, tell you much about the Snyder case, but we should have brought you in to explain some things to you. To bring you in to some of the conversations your mom and I have been having." He looked each of his sons in the eye. "I have to remember that you're getting older, that you have your own thoughts and feelings, and that you can handle more than we feel you can." He chuckled. "You've proven that time and time again."

"So…that's still a 'no' on pizza?" Tum-Tum asked. Rocky and Colt used their gloves to slap Tum-Tum on the arms. "What? I'm hungry."

Sam laughed. "Pizza isn't out of the question," he replied, and Tum-Tum smiled, pleased. "I promise to explain to answer your questions as much as I can from now on. But, if there are things I can't answer, I just can' answer them. Ok?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool," Rocky said. Colt nodded.

"Fine with me," Tum-Tum agreed. He pulled on the Velcro on his chest protector and fastened it in place. He slapped it once to test the padding. "Can we get going? The faster we're done, the faster I can eat." Colt rolled his eyes.

"All right let's get back to it," Sam said clapping his hands together. "Tum over here, Rocky and Colt get back into position. You're going to pitch to me, I'll hit the ball, and Colt will retrieve it to get into the catcher as quickly as possible. We're going for speed and accuracy here."

Over and over, they ran the drill, trading batting positions after a while. The backyard became dotted with abandoned baseballs as they did so. Shouts of encouragement, and grunts of effort punctuated the otherwise still evening. Then, finally Sam had called for the practice to end. Colt still had to go back to soccer practice the next day.

"Great job, boys," Sam said with a bright smile. "You're really working hard out there. I'm impressed." He put his hands on his hips. "I'm also impressed with how you all have been handling things over the years." He beckoned his sons over to him, pulling them to him in a hug. "I'm proud of you, boys."

"Thanks, dad," Colt said. Just hearing those words suddenly energized his otherwise physically exhausted body. Lifting his heavy arms, he slapped his brothers, and his dad on the back – and flicked Tum-Tum on the ear.

"Clean everything up and I'll go pick up dinner, ok?" Sam said. With a heavy sigh, and even heavier steps, Rocky and Colt walked around the backyard, depositing the used baseballs back into the ball baskets.

"And why aren't you helping?" Rocky asked Tum-Tum who was seated on the grass, removing his shows.

"I didn't miss," Tum-Tum said with a smug smile and shrug of his shoulders. "Most of these are foul balls. Why should I have to pick all of these up?"

"Because it's the only thing keeping you alive at the moment?" Colt asked deadpan. He almost expected Rocky to admonish him but found Rocky staring at his brother with a single lifted eyebrow. Rolling his head on his neck, Rocky locked eyes with Colt. Colt read the message instantly: it was on.

They rushed for the baskets filled with baseballs. One after another, they threw them as hard as they could towards Tum-Tum who cowered by their "home plate." One arm over his head, he tried to continue catching the baseballs as they came towards him.

"Come on, guys," he shouted over his brothers' laughter. "Not fair. Not funny! It's too fast. Slow down, come on. Ahh, I don't even have my mask on!"

Once he was out of baseballs, Colt removed his hand from his mitt and charged his brother. He knocked Tum-Tum to the ground, reaching for the straps of his chest padding. Rocky was right behind him and once Tum-Tum's equipment was free of his body, he buried his fingers into his sides, tickling him. Tum-Tum curled in on himself, laughing, and pleading for his brothers to stop tickling him.

"Ow, stop kicking me," Colt said around his own laughter after Tum-Tum's heel struck his thigh.

"Ok, I think that's enough," Rocky said, sitting back on his heels. "Let him up, Colt."

Colt grunted when his back suddenly hit the ground. He flailed his arms and legs, trying to get up, but Tum-Tum had expertly maneuvered his body and weight to keep his older brother down. Before he knew it, Colt was trapped in a pin with most of his own weight on his shoulder blades.

"Ok," he called, "ok, ok!" Reaching out a hand, he slapped his palm on the grass. "I give!"

"Ha, I won!" Tum-Tum sat back on his heels, smiling up at Rocky. Then his eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, I won? I actually beat him? I've never beat Colt before."

"Nice going," Rocky said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Colt glared up at Rocky, never moving from the spot. Tilting his head to the side, Rocky looked down at his little brother. "You left your side wide open when—"

"I'm aware," Colt said. Rocky laughed, offering his brother a hand. "It was a fluke, that's all."

"Uh-huh."

Colt rolled his eyes at Tum-Tum's continued cheers. "Mom," he called, rushing to the back door of the house, "mom, guess what?"

Colt stretched out on the grass before holding his hand up to his brother. Rocky instantly grabbed his hand and pulled him up into a seated position. "Do you remember when we could just sit on him to get him to do what we wanted?" Colt asked.

Rocky laughed.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm glad you all are enjoying the story so far, you guys. This is an idea I've been excited to write for a while and I'm glad I'm doing it now. If there's one thing I've enjoyed about the movies, it's how well the actors portrayed the brotherly bond between the three characters, so I hope you all saw that at the end of this chapter.

 **Rhuben**


	4. If and When

**Chapter 04**

Living as an FBI agent's wife was not what Jessica Douglas had envisioned for herself - nor was it what her parents had wanted either. How many times had Jessica heard "I don't trust that boy?" growing up from her father. Being daddy's little girl of course he was going to worry about her. Her mom was concerned on whether or not she was choosing a path for herself or following her boyfriend. Jessica took it all in stride. And with a few arguments here and there).

Having met Samuel Douglas while attending university, she knew he was a stand-up guy. Working part time as on campus security didn't hurt either. After all, girls did love a man in uniform and that certainly did prove to be true for her.

They had met after one of Jessica's exceptionally late nights studying during her Sophomore year at University. After an internal debate on whether she could get away with an overnight stay in the library, putting her speech classes to good use, Jessica had opted for as best of a good night's sleep she could manage in her own bed. She had heard the "never walk home at night" speech by her parents so many times.

It was in her best interest to use the library phone to call for an escort. Her friends had retired ages ago, making comments about her work horse attitude as they left. After a ten-minute wait, Officer Douglas had arrived; on time, with a flash light, and a smile. A pretty great smile if she were being honest.

"Hi," he had thrust his hand out towards her and proceeded to accept hers in a strong grip, "Officer Samuel Douglas. Where is that I'll be walking you, tonight?"

"Jessica." She gathered her belongings. "Calhoun House. Thank you for walking with me."

"My pleasure." With a sweep of his arms, he motioned towards the exit. "It's my job. Not that I'd have any problem doing so if you had asked me when not in uniform."

Officer Samuel Douglas, a Junior, worked on campus part time. He made some extra money on the side while giving himself time to focus on his studies. The extra pocket change was a nice bonus, as well. As he had explained, he had always wanted to go into law enforcement. A noble profession.

"What had you in the library so late?" He had asked after a moment of silence. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Studying, preparing a speech," Jessica explained, "one of my assignments was to not only work on my public speaking skills, but my presentation skills." At the look on his face, she added, "I'm working towards a Communications degree. I can do a lot with it, and my mom always said I could talk to anybody, so, why not?"

"Probably a good idea for you to ask for an escort then," Samuel pointed out with a half-smile. She was sure she had also puffed out his chest. "You don't know who you could be talking to."

"That's true," she replied, "so it's a good thing I trust you, then." She eased him with a smile. "Besides, I know how to take care of myself."

"All the same, I'm glad you asked for an escort just in case." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You've taken self-defense courses?"

"Martial arts."

" _You_ know martial arts?" Samuel almost stopped walking. He looked her over – partially scrutinizing, and maybe with some wonder? Or was he impressed? Not that she could really blame him. She was a small girl. Approachable. Prime target for anyone that may want to do her any harm. From what her father had always explained to her, it was an advantage that she had. No one would suspect little Jessica Tanaka could hold her own.

"Well...only a little," Jessica admitted, clutching her books to her chest. "My father teaches martial arts and I've sat in on a few classes. He just wants me to be safe, that's all."

"Smart man." Sam's mouth had formed a line. "What did your mom think about it?"

"My mom's fine with it. Even encouraged me. 'If anyone ever tries to mess with you, just pop 'em one.'" Jessica hugged her books to her chest, shrugging her shoulders. "She's always been called a firecracker."

"I don't doubt it" he said, laughing along with her.

The rest of the walk across campus went by quickly. They had discussed their families, their home towns, what they wanted to do with their degrees, and so much more. More than she thought could fit in what was normally a fifteen-minute walk. At some point, she noticed, their pace had slowed considerably. Not that she was complaining. A lack of sleep didn't compare to the easy going feeling as their conversations flowed easily from one topic to another.

Upon finally arriving at her dorm, Samuel had insisted on walking her to her dorm room, and then further inspecting to make sure the room was safe. He waved off her thanks, insisting that he was happy to walk with her, bid her a good night, and left. Jessica didn't need to call for an escort so often after that. There were a handful of other times where Samuel was assigned to respond to the call. And there were times where he started showing up on his own. Just to "check in."

Sometimes with coffee or a warm beverage, and sometimes with a story of his day. He started insisting she call him Sam. She started bringing something for him to eat on his late-night rounds. It quickly grew into a routine. She didn't know when exactly they were known to be a couple. She looked forward to the time they got to spend together after a long day of classes. Even more to the times where he had to "check this building really quick" and she found herself following him on his rounds, occasionally stealing kisses in the dark recesses of the academic buildings.

Their love grew quickly. They spent time together as much as possible and when apart on school holidays and vacations, they called and wrote each other as much as possible. When he left for the FBI Academy, she visited him whenever she could, and had the opportunity to witness his graduation in person. Her parents were civil and opened their home to him whenever he came to visit, but she could see the hesitancy of accepting their relationships.

"It'll just be a hard life," her mom would remind her, "he'll be traveling a lot. It is a very dangerous job."

"And every time he returns, I'll be there to welcome him home," Jessica would answer. "I know the risks, mom. I know it'll he bard. I just want your and dad's support. Please."

"Honey, you know you can come to me if you ever need to talk, if things are hard, if you're lonely. Whatever it is. Your father and I enjoy having you home, or just talking to you on the phone."

"Dad doesn't like him."

"They just don't see eye to eye on some things. They both love you and you want you safe. That they will forever agree on. And, honey, it's the most important thing that matters."

If there was one thing that Sam had always made her feel, it was safe. All those days, weeks, and months alone at the house on her own, or with her infant children, she didn't have much worry. On the most stressful days or lonely days, she only had to hear his voice on the phone and she could relax and refocus. On the flip side, hearing the baby babble from her sons, or the fully formed sentences on various topics such as naming dinosaurs, or counting as high as they could go helped _him_ refocus and remember why he was gone so much. Growing short tempers, occasional passive aggressive comments aside, their lives were normal for them. What marriage didn't go through rough patches?

Not everyone had a rough patch like Hugo Snyder kidnapping her babies, though.

Her babies.

Standing at the window, peering into the backyard, Jessica smiled. She couldn't help it. Watching her sons engage in a tickle fight with each other, just choosing to be each other's friends, always brought a smile to her face. She didn't have any siblings growing up. She always knew she wanted her future kids to have someone to play with. Although Rocky had mentioned from time to time that he liked it better in the two years he was an only child. As if he could remember that.

Tum-Tum had barely made it to the back door before he was ambushed by his older brothers. He was laughing so hard, his face was bright red, barely visible over the ball he had tucked himself in. Rocky and Colt were over him, bumping and jostling each other to try and get the best position to torture their baby brother. Just like when they were in backseats of cars pinching and kicking at each other. What others viewed as roughhousing, she always saw as signs of affection. Her three boys could get on each other's nerves, proven by the often shouted "Mooooom, Rocky/Colt/Tum-Tum won't stop bothering meeee," but they had a tight bond.

Opening the back door, she had stepped into the door way and said, "Boys, I need you washed up before dinner."

"Ok, mom," Rocky said between his laughs, talking over Tum-Tum's cries for help, and Colt's grunts to keep his brother in his grasp. "We'll be right in." He looked up at his mom, eyes shining with mischief, mouth wide in a smile that so much resembled her husband's.

A lot of Samuel Jr. resembled her husband. From his sandy brown hair, down to the line of his jaw. They both had a drive to succeed in life. They were kind to everyone until given a reason not to be. Even then, they do their best to deescalate conflicts. Rocky was grounded, had a semblance of an old soul to his demeanor. He was a natural leader. He could jump into any situation with a sense of self-confidence that always amazed her. Jessica fondly remembered one moment where she was sick with the flu, and he had stepped up and made lunch for his brothers. Of course he couldn't make much more than cheese and crackers, but Colt and Tum-Tum ate it up, and Rocky's proud smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Lasagna." Tum-Tum cheered, managing to wriggle away from his brothers long enough to get to his feet. Blades of grass stuck to his cheeks and he scrubbed it off with the side of his fist. He closed his eyes, almost swaying from side to side. "Homemade sauce, three cheeses, fresh bread. I've been waiting for it all day."

Michael had always been the most attached to herself and Sam. He would be curled against Sam's chest whenever he sat down for the night reading the paper or claim the coveted spot closest to her when reading a bed time story. A baby walker only made him that much more mobile. Whether it was herself or Sam making dinner or a treat, he would be ready, mouth poised in the perfect position for a taste test. As he got older, he was given tasks like helping to crack eggs, or mix ingredients in a bowl (and lick it after). He was more of the eternal kid kind of person, always smiling and having a good time, stepping up whenever he needed to, but more unwillingly at times. Now a teenager, he was coming into his own and really learning about the world.

"Unfortunately mom," Colt said, "with how good your food is, I don't think Tum is ever going to move out." He had one eye closed against the setting sun and was in a crouch, arms resting on his knees.

If he had been a girl, Jeffery would have been named after Jessica. It had always been at the top of the list of baby names she held close to her heart. And it was only fair with Samuel naming their first born after himself. Upon notification that they were having a second boy, she and Sam both agreed that their new baby would have a name with double letters like her.

While her oldest and youngest sons did lean more towards resembling one parent, Jeffery was a mix of Jessica and Sam. He certainly got his temper from his father, and his knack for quick wit (or sarcasm) from her. Arguably, he was the most sensitive, but would never admit it. Like her, he could internalize things. Like Sam, he could shut down and lash out in anger. However, Colt knew when to stand up for himself and for others. And he wasn't afraid to challenge things he didn't completely agree with.

Truth be told, he was the one she worried about the most.

"I'm not ready for any of my boys to leave," Jessica said, "so I'm going to enjoy it while I still can." She smiled at the embarrassed looks her boys exchanged followed by rolled eyes. "Don't leave anything on your floor, clothes in baskets, and make sure all this equipment is back in the garage."

"Sure, mom. We'll get right on it."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hurry. The faster we're done, the faster we can eat."

Laughing quietly to herself, Jessica left her boys to do her bidding and went to find her husband. Their responses were right in line to their personalities. She made a beeline for his office, unsurprised to find him perched in his chair. Instead of his usual attitude when dealing with work, back straight, strong shoulders, commanding voice, he almost melted over his desk. His work phone was pressed to his ear, weight pressed heavily into his elbow and forearm. His voice was rough, lower, quiet. Not like how he had just used it hours before when defending his actions against their son.

It wasn't until Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum had trained regularly in the martial arts that his thoughts on the topic had really come out. He didn't hate the martial arts. In fact, he understood that having maneuvers in your wheel house to break anyone's unwanted hold on you was important. He was just of the mind to think to leave things to the professionals. Ones who had been trained in all forms of encounters to step in and handle things. Jessica did agree with him to an extent: respond to the best of your ability, and then seek out others that can handle any escalation. He was more worried of people using their knowledge to be aggressive and fight all of the time, drawing resources away from areas that didn't need it.

"Sam…" Jessica didn't need to say any more. When her husband looked her in the eye, she could see just how exhausted he was. Exhausted of the situation.

"Thanks, Jerry," Sam said into the phone, keeping his eyes on his wife. "I got everything I need here. Nothing seems to have come up, but please let me know if anything comes across your desk that you think connects to this."

Door shut behind her, Jessica crossed the room to her husband's side. He ended the call, setting his phone face down onto the desk. Jessica spotted the fanned-out pictures and documents that chronicled the life of Hugo Snyder that had been concealed under his arms. "Everything's ok, Sam. Another year with no incidences."

"I just can't get him out of my head, honey," Sam said, shaking his head back and forth. "After all this time, I just can't."

"I know." It took a long time after the event to not jump whenever the phone rang. What if it was more bad news? What if the boys were to be subjected to even more interviews? Maybe something else had

"The things he's done…" He settled back against the cushion of his chair. "It's one thing to get into a shoot-out as an FBI agent, but he threatened my family. He threatened the core of who I am." Jessica lowered herself down onto the arm of the chair. One arm going around his neck, she gently pulled him back to lean against him. She stroked his hair with the other hand. She felt him slowly relax. Jessica only relaxed when he pushed his fingers through the one draped over his shoulder, the other looping around her waist. "I don't know how things could have turned out this way. Hugo used to be that guy that hung around all of the time. That was all." He closed his eyes. "I should have listened and allowed myself to be pulled off the case when it was presented to us."

"We can't change that now," Jessica said. "Everything worked out. We're safe. The boys are turning more and more into young men every day." She kissed the top of his head. "We've been doing a good job, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you holding down the fort." Sam opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I don't know what I'd do without you. If I don't say it enough, I really do appreciate every single thing you do around here. Thank you." His chest swelled with a sigh and his eyes blazed with admiration. "Thank you for going through life with me."

Just like on their wedding day, she felt her heart flutter. "I should be thanking you for that, actually," Jessica replied. "Thank you for walking me home."

"Yeah," Sam reached up and kissed her on the cheek, "always."

* * *

"Ball." Friday afternoon, Colt clapped his hands together, quickly shuffling sideways past his team mate in an attempt to get open. "Ball, ball, ball!" He grunted, colliding shoulder to shoulder with an opponent wearing a bright yellow pinny. Spinning on the spot, he maneuvered past his opponent and quickly lost pace with them as he charged down the field, one hand waving in the air.

 _Pop_.

The spinning soccer ball arched through the air. Planting one cleat into the ground, Colt pushed off the outside of his foot, cutting in the opposite direction. He laughed to himself when he heard the under the breath curse behind him as he placed his body between the ball and the opposing team member. Angling himself forward, he used his chest to stop he ball from bouncing too high off the ground. With the top of his foot, he tapped the ball forward and surged towards the goal. Wind passed by his ears, so loud, he could barely hear the Footsteps thudding behind him.

"Got me back, got me back." Brett was behind him, vocalizing his help if it was needed. There was only one more player between Colt and the goalie. He could easily out maneuver the player in front and behind him. Judging by the shouts of the players, that's exactly what they expected of him, too.

"B," Colt called, planting one foot in the ground. Using his forward momentum, Colt leaned to his left, swinging his right leg forward, striking the soccer ball with the inside curve of his foot. Lifting into the air, the soccer ball arched across the penalty box.

Brett jumped into the air and pointed his foot perpendicular to the ground. Striking the ball on its bounce, it shot towards the goal. Fingers outstretched, the goal keeper barely touched the ball as it sailed into the net.

 _Yes._ Colt pumped his fist, jogging over to Brett to slap his palm. "Nice one."

"Nice pass," Brett said. He doubled over to pull up his left sock and shin guard. "Almost didn't make it there in time." He adjusted his right side.

"You had it," Colt said with a scoff. "I knew you'd get there in time."

Brett made a clicking sound with his mouth as he straightened. "Almost had to go left-footed," he said, "Still don't really have the balance for it, yet." Grasping the collar of his shirt, Brett lifted it to wipe the sweat from his nose and jaw. "Coach has me on the wrong side."

Colt merely shrugged, tilting his head in the direction of the whistle coming from down field. He wasn't too fond with the position he was playing either – being a center midfielder was nothing to talk down to. Working both on offense and defense, they could be some of the hardest working people on the field. Calling shots, watching the players to know the best course of action, even at times switching with a forward to take the ball into the defender's end of the field.

Right wing, or even a forward, was more his speed. But it was still very early in the school year. Their first game was coming up, but not too quickly where Coach Cahill wasn't able to work out where all his players' best positions were.

Colt was just happy that this was one sport Rocky didn't seem to have any interest in. Or Tum-Tum for that matter. Baseball and the martial arts were one thing, but he would pull his hair out if he didn't have anything of his own to share. Still, Rocky and Tum-Tum did their best to come to every game, cheering along with anyone else, sharing their views of the high moments of the game, and commiserating with the low moments.

"Gather in everyone, come on, come on."

Breaking into a jog, Colt crossed the large field before lowering himself into a kneeling position. Wetting his lips, he peered up at his coach. Coach Cahill who stood hunched over his kneeling players, hands on his knees, dark sunglasses blocking his eyes.

"I know you're all getting tired of switching around," he announced after a moment of silence, "getting comfortable in certain player's positions only to move to a place you're not comfortable. You're rallying hard, and over the weekend, I'll take the time to finalize everything." He nodded his head at the sporadic clapping heard from the team. "It's your weekend, so I won't make you stay here much longer, but I'm seeing good things, here. You all are a strong bunch, and we have a great chance of doing incredible things this season."

"We've got some seniors leaving at the end of this season, but we have emerging leaders with our juniors, and great talent with the sophomores and freshmen we do have." More applause that Colt joined in on.

He had been one of the lucky few to join the team as a sophomore. His speed was a main factor in the decision to move him up, but he was a quick study and picked up on all the tricks and fundamentals in no time. As he had been told, he could see the field in a way, no one else could – as if he was looking down at it from above.

"I have a great feeling about this season. I hope you all feel it, too. Now, get out of here. Two laps cool down and have a great weekend." Coach Cahill straightened, and held out his hand. Getting to his feet, Colt joined his teammates and added his hand to the pile of sweaty, warm hands of his team mates. "Team on three. One, two, three."

"TEAM."

"Douglas, hold on a second."

Brett clapped Colt on the back as he maneuvered past him to start his two laps for a cool down. Colt nodded, indicating to his coach that his request was heard. Both of them waited for the team to get further down the field before either of them spoke.

"I know your head hasn't been in this the past week or so," Coach Cahill said. Colt tightened the muscles in his face. He stared back at his coach. On his very first practice with the Varsity team, Coach Cahill had paused on his name during roll call. His eyes flicked upwards over the top of his sign-up sheet and stayed glued to Colt's face for a moment longer than the other players. He knew exactly who Colt was. "You don't have to explain anything to me, but I just want you to know I am proud of this turn around. Nothing out there has to dictate what occurs on this field, but I know that can be hard at times. You've jumped right back into practice and gave it all on the field. That's the kind of player I'm looking for to lead this team."

"Thanks, coach." Colt felt himself suddenly flush. Attention and praise. He still wasn't used to it. After everything that had happened over the years, he could have people sticking cameras in his face, microphones, and hailing himself and his brothers as heroes. It was cool. Then it was kind of annoying. His grandpa was right, as a ninja, you did everything to help because you could, not for the glory.

"Go on and take your laps." Coach Cahill clapped him on the shoulder, gently shaking him. "Have a great weekend."

With that, Colt leaned forward, and set off at a jog. He finished his laps in no time and met up with Brett, who hung back, taking sips from his water bottle. Colt held out one hand, using his fingers to motion to his friend that he wanted some. With his other hand, he removed the band holding his hair back, and shook his hair out, allowing it to settle around his shoulders.

"Hi, Jeffery."

Catching the water bottle thrown at him, Colt tilted his head back, all the while looking over to see who called his name. A group of girls, all with their hair tied up in high ponytails, in tank tops and shorts, were making their way down the asphalt path between the football and soccer fields.

Cheerleaders, and some girls from the tennis team as well. They finger waved in Colt's direction. In return, Colt briefly lifted his hand in a wave. Still, the action earned a round of giggles and shushes. Over the top of the water bottle, Colt could see Brett shaking his head in amusement. Still, Colt gulped down the water before lifting the hem of his shirt up over his stomach to dry his chin. A second round of shushes and giggles was heard.

"I don't know how you do it, man," Brett said, catching his water bottle against his chest after Colt threw it back to him. "The girls are always trying to get some attention from you." Colt shrugged, falling into step beside his friend as they stepped through the field gates and made their way towards the gym.

"I've noticed," Colt said.

Brett snorted. "Don't tell me you think they're just being nice."

"I'm just not interested." Colt at least was not interested in any of those girls.

There were a few girls that he hung out with (others would actually use the word "date") over the years, but nothing too serious. It was all just fun. If he found someone attractive, and enjoyed their company, why not make it a point to focus his attention on them? If it lined up with a school function, that was even better. He did his best to make sure things ended amicably. Once he wasn't feeling it anymore, he just let them know and moved on. It was high school, things weren't supposed to be serious.

He and Jo Lightning were a little more than a summer thing, but living in two different places, things fizzled pretty quickly. They were still great friends, though. She was with Rocky and Tum-Tum, too. In fact, he thought to himself, they were overdue for a visit to her home.

Everyone always wondered whether there was something going on between himself and Amanda Ryder after what had happened at the Mega Mountain Amusement Park. (It wasn't an event they talked about much but was in their repertoire of "heroics" that people recognized him from.) Sure, she was incredibly helpful with everything that happened at the park, and he warmed up to all the special effects prototypes she carried on her person, but they were nothing more than friends – if that. At school, she was more often found in the computer lab or art studio. She didn't stay in the neighborhood long as she and her mom moved closer to her dad's work, so his commute wouldn't be as long. Highway traffic around the area was no joke.

"Better get used to letting them down gently," Brett said, shoving his shoulder, "you know they'll all be trying to snag you when Homecoming rolls around."

"Maybe."

"Maybe," Brett repeated with a laugh. "At least try not to break too many hearts and leave some of the girls for the rest of us." He clapped Colt on the back as they headed into the locker room. "You got any plans this weekend? Thinking of heading out to the beach. Heard there may be a party down there."

"Sounds good. Keep me posted."

"Sure, dude."

After quickly gathering his belongings, Colt made a beeline for the parking lot. Backpack hanging off one shoulder, soccer bag off the other, flip flops striking his heels with each step, he couldn't help but smile. The rest of the school week flew past without any incident, soccer practices were going well, and the weekend was finally here! Two whole days free of anything school related. Mostly. He would have to carve out time Sunday night to do all of his homework.

"Colt, hey."

"Hey, Em," Colt greeted Emily, changing his direction to walk over to Rocky's car. "What's up?"

"Waiting to catch a ride over to your place with Rocky." Colt lifted his eyebrows but smiled and nodded. He knew that Emily would wait for Rocky anywhere. "I've texted him. Have you seen him?"

"Good question," Colt said. "I haven't seen him since lunch."

"Oh."

"I can take you home if you want," Colt offered, "mom took Tum right after school. I have no idea how long Rock will be."

"No, it's ok." Emily adjusted the strap of her own backpack up her arm. She waved her hand in the air. "I don't mind waiting. I'll try calling again."

 _Yeah, I'll bet._ Colt pressed his lips together, trying hard not to smile. He also knew she would wait for Rocky as long as possible.

Even after all these years, even when he openly discussed other girls he was attracted to, Emily still held out hope for him. It was actually kind of sweet. Not that he would admit it out loud. Or quietly. Or at all. Honestly, he didn't think anything would ever happen between Emily and Rocky. Though he was able to witness that as they got older, things got less awkward and shy between them. Especially on her end. Despite not seeing each other as often as when hey were kids ( _Thank god_ ), Emily was still a good friend to his brother, despite whatever feelings she still had.

She and Colt never really had a problem between the two of them. He just thought she hung around a lot. And couldn't keep up with them. And sucked the fun out of a lot of things. But she did prove to be able to handle things on her own. She knew when to put her foot down when she wasn't being treated well, and if her right hook was anything to go by the night of the abduction, she could handle herself when pushed far enough. Emily was ok in his books.

"What is your mom preparing for tonight, anyway?" Emily asked.

"You'd actually have to ask Tum once you get there," Colt corrected her. Emily's eyes widened in surprise. "He's really gotten into _The Food Network_ over the years."

"Really?"

"We haven't been poisoned yet, so that's good. And I'm sure he'll do his best to make sure that doesn't happen with you over for dinner, either." Emily laughed. "Ok, so I'll see you at our place then. I guess." He nodded towards the school. "If Rock takes too long, just call, I can swing back around to get you. And kick his butt for making you wait, while I'm at it."

"Thanks, Colt."

"Anytime." He didn't know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere along the line, Emily had become okay in his book. (If he had to guess, it was somewhere between the time of the strike of her foot against the "robbers'" leg that night and smacking him in the face.)

Upon returning home, whatever it was Tum-Tum was making for dinner, was already filling the house with an incredible smell. Tum-Tum had always been picky about his food, and even more picky in regard to who got to "enter his kitchen" before dinner was even made. Managing to grab a cookie from the few that was left on the counter ( _Mom must have made him save some,_ he thought to himself _)_ , he took the stairs up to his room two at a time.

Rocky and Emily had arrived at the Douglas home at some point during his shower and change. He could hear his mom speaking with Emily through the floor of his room, catching up on each other's lives. Colt was sure that his mom saw Emily as the daughter she never had. Colt often wondered how both his parents felt never having a daughter, but never knew how to bring up the question. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with having all boys. But there was that wonder: how did his parents decide to stop having kids after Tum-Tum; what would it be like to have a sister; and would she be as into martial arts as her brothers?

It was all so strange.

Colt had been busy drowning out those thoughts with his guitar (making sure the volume wasn't cranked too high on his amp) when Rocky, Tum-Tum, and Emily walked in, making themselves comfortable. He merely glanced over at them, instantly choking the chord he was playing with a tight grip on the fret board.

"That sounded good," Emily commented, lowering herself to a seated position on the floor, her back pressed against the side rail of his bed.

"I was just fooling around," Colt said, removing the guitar strap from around his neck. He suddenly felt embarrassed. It wasn't like his room was soundproof and no one was able to hear him. That was different than someone watching him practice, though. "But, thanks. What's going on?" He used his hands to brush his hair back, moving to sit on his bed, his mattress creaking under his weight.

"Well, how was therapy?" Emily asked, looking around at each boy. Colt twisted his mouth to the side. "I don't have my next session until next week." Her lips lifted into a hint of a smile. "I actually think I'm ready to start the exit process."

Rocky nodded his head, smiling. Tum-Tum gave a golf clap and an enthusiastic, "That's great." Colt just lifted his eyebrows in surprise. When would they ever get to the point where they could stop going to therapy? With Rocky leaving for college, god knew he wouldn't have to take part in it as much anymore.

"I haven't had any nightmares for a long time," Emily explained, "and I've doing pretty well with managing my anxiety, too."

Rocky let out an odd laugh. "Good time, too," he said, "this school year is pretty big. College acceptances, choosing where we're going to go, graduating."

Colt rolled his eyes. He shook his head. His knees started bouncing. In less than a year, Rocky would be able to leave all this crap behind. And he was stuck with it. He didn't have a choice but to relive it every year. To talk about it when all he wanted to do was move on. Even now, he had no control. His ninja skills couldn't help him, just like they didn't help him when they were taken from their home.

For every good thing that he or his brothers could ever do, no matter how happy or normal they could feel, it would be marred by that one event in their lives. And he hated knowing that. He hated that without fail, the sound of Snyder's name would make his chest tighten, his palms sweat, and his heart race more than it did when he had to run timed suicides on the soccer field. Even when Snyder wasn't around, he still had control over some part of his life.

But not anymore. Not now. They had moved twice to get away from him, he wasn't going to seep into this house, either.

"For once, can we not talk about this?" Colt asked, interrupting whatever it was that Emily was currently discussing. She looked up at him over her shoulder, eyebrows coming together in a look of hurt. But he didn't care. "It's what therapy is for. Helping us move on. This happened years ago, ok? I's done."

"Colt." One single word. Rocky's face was fixed into a frown, eyes narrowed into a look of disapproval. Tum-Tum sat wide-eyed, looking back and forth between his brothers.

"No, Rock." Colt clasped his hands together. They were starting to shake, too. "It's all the time. I'm just done. This was something between dad and grandpa, and somehow, we got stuck in the middle of it. We shouldn't have ever been in the middle."

"You can't explain blame dad and grandpa for that," Emily said quietly. "Your mom and dad, and your grandpa had lives before you all came along. There is no way they knew he would ever turn out like this." Colt got to his feet and started to pace. "I can guarantee you, no matter how badly you feel about the whole thing, they're ten times worse."

"Mom and dad used to fight a lot," Tum-Tum said quietly. "When I couldn't sleep, I'd get a snack from the kitchen—"

"Because that's different than any other day," Colt said with a snort. Tum-Tum stuck his tongue out at Colt, pulling a pillow to his chest.

"Let him talk," Rocky said, sounding tired, yet with a chuckle.

"It was just stupid," Tum-Tum said. "I hate it when mom and dad argue."

"And they always argue about this. See? Everyone's tired of it. It's stupid."

"Sure, maybe no one wants to deal with anymore, but you can't just ignore that it happened," Rocky replied. "Clearly, mom and dad think there's some residual stuff going on with us that maybe we don't realize and that's why we're still going to therapy." Rocky shot Colt an annoyed look. "You could have talked about what was going with you, you know."

"I had asked him, Rock. Straight out, I had asked grandpa who the guy was, and he said it was no one."

"By that point, he may as well have been a stranger to grandpa. He doesn't lie. You know that. You can't keep beating yourself up about this, dude. And you can't be a jerk to everyone else just because you don't want to talk about it. Maybe other people need to." Rocky angled his head towards Emily.

"And maybe you all need to move on." Colt threw his hands into the air. "How often have you checked the newspaper this year, Rock? Or searched Twitter or Facebook for anything?"

Rocky was silent for a moment before finally saying, "That doesn't matter. Nothing's happening."

Colt scoffed, storming out of the room. When did he get so hot? Stepping into the bathroom, Colt ran some cold water and pushed it over his face. He sensed Rocky standing behind him and shot his brother an annoyed look in the mirror.

"What's going on?" Rocky asked. Colt grabbed a towel and dabbed at his face. Don't ignore me, dude. There's you being short-tempered, and you being a jerk. You always are more of a jerk this time of year."

"I'm fine." Colt turned around to face his brother, tossing his towel into the sink. "I can take care of myself."

"And I damn sure hope you can." Rocky crossed his arms over his chest. "Because after I'm gone, you're going to need to step up around here." Colt snorted. "I'm serious. I'll be back here for holidays and breaks, and you can still tell me whatever it is you need, or what's bothering you. Whether I'm here or at school, that's not going to change."

"Yeah, right. College is all about change. Everyone changes."

"And you hate change more than anyone, but that doesn't mean you can ignore it." Rocky looked away from a moment, uncrossing his arms. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shrugged. "Sure, I know you can take care of things in your own way. But that's not how you handle this situation. You can't shut people out."

"I'm not shutting people out," Colt protested. "I'm just…I'm so tired of all of this."

"You know, I wish I could be more like you. More outspoken. More selfish."

Colt snorted. "Some pep talk, Rock."

"No, I really mean that. You don't have a problem thinking about yourself, taking care of yourself. You know how to put that division. Me, I'm always thinking about everybody else. About mom and dad, and grandpa, you and Tum, my friends. I've always worked to make things easier for everybody else and now I have to go to college and really be all about myself."

"That's sad, dude. You really need to get a life."

"My life revolves around making sure you and Tum will be ok without me. I have no shame in that. In fact I'm proud of it. I'm proud that you wanted to do everything I wanted to do. I'm proud when you both figure out how to do things that I can't, or even faster than me. You know, I've always been envious of you and Tum, how close you've gotten."

"You and Tum are close."

"Not as close as you two. Maybe you've learned to tolerate each other, being stuck in the same room all these years. And it'll just grow after I graduate this year, man."

"Come on, Rock."

"Believe me, I'm just glad you guys aren't arguing all the time anymore. Or picking on each other. It's like you had said, you take things from dad because it's easier to just deal with. Well, it's easier for me to deal with everything else. I'm just letting you know that none of us have it easy. Not truly. We all have things we need to deal with. Whether it's now or later. You just have to deal."

"How can you deal? How can you deal with knowing that grandpa had taught Snyder how to be a ninja? And that he used it all to his benefits? To break the law, to do something so drastic as kidnapping us just to get to dad? They were all friends. What went wrong?"

"Who knows?"

"Yeah, well," Colt muttered, brushing past Rocky, "I'm going to find out."

"Colt." Rocky grabbed his brother's arm, stopping him in the hallway. "Come on."

"You can't tell me you're not curious. You heard grandpa that day. He said he taught Snyder how to be a ninja, not how to murder someone." Rocky twisted his mouth to the side, eyebrows pulling towards each other. "How does someone go from training with grandpa to murder? You've always been looking for anything to do with Snyder in the papers. I think we need to start looking backwards. And who better to help us then someone who plans on majoring in journalism?"

"Emily is in a good place," Rocky said slowly, "I don't know if we should bring her into this." Still, he looked interested. "So, what do you propose we do? Where do we start?"

"Talk to grandpa," Colt instantly replied. Rocky looked like he was going to protest, and Colt rushed on, putting his hands up defensively. "I need to apologize to him, anyway. I shouldn't have been so harsh, thinking he turned on us. I've never apologized for it."

"You don't ever need to apologize to him. You know that. He would say the same thing."

"I still feel like I need to." Colt sighed. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right. Deep down, I knew grandpa would never do anything like that."

"Of course he wouldn't," Rocky agreed. "You were just scared. Trying to understand what was going on."

"And now I think to really understand, we have to start asking questions."

Rocky relaxed into a grin. "I thought you were just saying you were done with it."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right. Maybe we do have to talk about things. Everything."

Rocky stared at Colt for a moment before doing something he hadn't done in a long time: he lifted a hand and placed it on Colt's head, forcing it downward. Then, he kissed his brother on the forehead, before using his fingers to shove Colt's head away.

"You really are growing up, Colt," he said. Then an annoyed look came across his face. "In more ways than one; when did you get taller than me?" Colt just smiled. "Ok. Let's go tell Tum and Emily the plan."

* * *

Running his hands over his short hair, Hugo Snyder stared up at the underside of the bunk above him. It hadn't changed over the years, and yet he still found himself intently staring at it for hours on end. Almost as if he dared it to change.

That was just the way he was: he never gave himself the opportunity to miss even the smallest detail.

Only when he heard knocking on the heavy metal door of his cell, did he break his stare. A man with a square-like face stood in the doorway, leering down at him. "Got your note," he said in a gruff voice, lower jaw poking out as if he was talking around a toothpick or a cigarette. "You wanted to see me?"

"Jack Harding," Snyder said with a sigh, fluffing his pillow behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and his lips parted in a smile. "Long time no talk."


	5. Another World Away

**Chapter 05**

Waiting for his turn with the pull up bar, Colt massaged his fingers, his wrists, and his arms. How was it fair to have a two-hour long baseball practice, and then be expected to lift weights right after. His arms already felt like noodles, how he was expected to do perfect bicep curls or bench press reps was beyond him.

Plus, it was Saturday. A day for relaxation and goofing off.

"That's good, Michael," Sam said, watching Tum-Tum slowly go through his pull-up reps. "Just a few more, and then we're done."

 _Finally._ Colt thought to himself. He must have been body switched with Tum-Tum at some point because all he was thinking about was finally getting something to eat. That, and just about anything else apart from his reps.

Had he already done his fifty? Maybe he had gone further than that, may as well just wait until he was told to stop. God knows he'd get a lecture about over working his muscles later on. How many times had he heard the "You have to take care of your body" lecture? He remembered one such instance where it was pointed in Rocky's direction after being told he was working too hard on his pitches, but it was always made sure that Colt was around to hear the conversation.

They both had the tendency to keep working and working on aspects of their athletic lives if and when they got stuck, wanting to break through the block as quickly as possible. Tum-Tum on the other hand chipped away at it over time. But that was like him. He was more of a "go with the flow" kind of person. Why get all worked up when you could just take a break and go back to it later? Rocky and Colt, there was always an unspoken competition between the two of them.

Colt was happy that Tum-Tum could be that way. He was happy that he and Rocky could make it that he didn't have to be…like them, he guessed. Tum-Tum could take baby steps into the shallow end of the pool that was the real world, but Rocky and Colt seemed to be further out at times. But it was better that way. It was Tum-Tum at his best. He had a great group of friends, did well in school, and was well liked be teachers and other students alike.

At the same time, Colt did find himself to be envious of his brother. It was almost annoying how upbeat and carefree Tum-Tum could be. Annoying that he couldn't always just be that way, too. Maybe it was just what growing up was supposed to be like. After all, his mom did often remind them that she and their dad "used to be kids once."

"Slow it down, boys," Sam said, pulling Colt back to reality. He reached for the dumbbells settled on either side of his thigh, getting back to his workout.

"Remember, everything counts here. Just because you can do it fast, doesn't mean you're doing it right."

Glancing over at Rocky, who was settled on the floor doing sit-ups, Colt made a face, pressing his lips tightly together. For a moment, Rocky didn't give away any indication that he saw Colt's attempt to try not to laugh at their father's choice of words. But his lips twitched, and his eyes flickered briefly in Colt's direction. It was long enough for a spasm of laughter to ripple in Rocky's stomach, and he fell back against the garage floor, laughing.

Colt managed to hold his laughter in for a moment, cheeks puffed, eyes squeezed shut, before it escaped in one spitting breath. He lowered the dumbbells in his hands to his thighs, and he doubled over.

"What's so funny?" Tum-Tum asked upon release of the pull up bar. He easily landed on his feet, knees bent slightly to absorb his own weight, pushing the energy into the floor. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he caught his breath, he turned a curious look over to his dad. "Why are they laughing?" Sam's eyebrow's lifted as he looked over at his laughing sons but didn't say anything. Frowning, Tum-Tum turned back to his brothers. " _What_?"

"Nothing," Colt managed to get out. "Don't worry about it."

"Seriously, Tum," Rocky insisted, pulling himself up into a seated position, "it's nothing." He glanced over at his dad and cleared his throat, all traces of humor immediately wiped from his face. Colt sighed and wet his lips. It still amazed him to some degree just how quickly the fun could be pulled out of the room just by one look from their dad. "You'll understand when you're older. Don't worry about it."

Left, right, left, right. Colt alternated lifting and lowering each barbell in his hand. His earbuds had already been pulled out of his ears enough times to quickly bring his temperament from chill to rage in seconds. Between that and his dad's comments about how loud he was listening to his music, it was just easier to go without and let his mind wander. Not too far. If he had too much time to think, too many things started trickling in. Sights. Sounds. Smells. And if he focused on that too much, it took a while to work out what was memories and what was reality.

"One more rotation, and then you're done," Sam announced. Colt got to his feet, the bench he was sitting on creaking as he removed his weight from it. He set the dumbbell in his left hand on the floor and grabbed the bench seat he vacated. Lifting it up to access the equipment cage underneath. He set the dumbbells inside, leaving the cage open for Rocky to grab some for himself, while Tum-Tum moved to the floor to start his sit-ups.

"Bet I can do more than you, Tum," Colt said as he stepped past his brother, massaging his fingers.

"Yeah right," Tum-Tum replied. Crossing his arms over his chest, he started to power through his sit-ups. "Good luck." Colt laughed to himself, jumping up to grab a hold of the pull-up bar. Extending his legs out in front of them, he placed his right leg over his left, crossing them at the ankles, and started slowly lifting and lowering himself. Tum-Tum frowned, watching him. "Show off." Colt just stuck his tongue out in response.

Rocky shook his head back and forth, silently doing his reps. He may have kept himself away from the subtle competition, yet Colt noticed that he had picked up dumbbells 10 pounds heavier than his own. Of course. There was some comfort in seeing there was a little bit of struggle there. He was slowly building his strength up. Colt made a mental note to start doing the same. How Rocky could be just as competitive and in the thick of the fun one minute, and then so much like their dad the next sometimes astounded Colt.

Only because of how often he would find himself acting the exam same way. He often wondered if they were more similar than they realized. Did Rocky also have sudden bouts of uncontrollable shaking at times? Or feeling like someone was watching him? He never brought it up with his brother, and he was sure Rocky had more he was keeping to himself than just how often their parents made sure he was looking after Tum-Tum and himself.

"It's not a competition," Sam commented, arms crossed tightly over his old university shirt. Pulling his chin up over the bar, Colt looked over at his dad. Or Coach Douglas in this case.

The stance was so familiar to him, having seen it a lot over the years. Often, it was accompanied with a smile of pride and he would reach a hand up to either push his fingers through his hair, or tug on the brim of the hat that was most often shading his eyes. At other times, his face was etched into a more hardened look, one Colt and his brothers recognized would be coupled with his "work voice." Hard to crack. Firm. Ready for a no-nonsense command that expected compliance.

It was hard to even imagine what his dad's life was like before he had kids. Or before he had even met their mom. Stories were one thing, but actually trying to visualize it, or to even look at old photo albums was trippy. A star baseball player for his high school, Sam was even talented enough to be scouted, but still chose to go down the path of law enforcement. His small, embarrassed grin of excitement and pride were forever captured in photo the day he accepted his spot at university, the day of his marriage, and each birth day of his three sons, albeit looking more tired, yet more grown up with each one. That smile slowly dwindled over the years.

Whether it was due to what he's seen at his job, or what the family has personally experienced, Colt wasn't sure. And he wasn't sure he would ever know the answer. But the work ethic was still there, and he had instilled it in his sons. Combined with their grandfather's teachings, it was no wonder they Douglas boys were recognized in their community for what they had managed to do over the years.

"Ok, that's good." Sam started clapping his hands together. Bit by bit, Coach Douglas was now turning back into their dad. During slide practices, throwing exercises, and catching drills, it wasn't hard to differentiate between the two entities. Coach Douglas pushed and pushed, pointing out mistakes, and reminders. Sam Douglas returned when telling his life story with the sport, checking on any sort of injury and injury follow up.

Sighing in relief, Colt uncrossed his legs and allowed himself to just hang from the pull-up bar before he lowered himself to the ground. Tum-Tum settled back against the garage floor, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Rocky was immediately on his feet, putting his equipment away, and looking towards their dad in silent question. Colt found himself doing the same. What was it that they did wrong? What could they have done better? How did he, personally, mess up?

"Great work tonight, boys. Really. You'll be ready for spring in no time. Michael, we're really going to focus on your endurance from here. Your season might not start until the end of October, but we want to be sure you're prepared."

"You might as well stock up on blenders," Colt commented. "You're going to need, like ten. Five for protein shakes—"

"And the others for milk shakes," Rocky said, throwing a teasing smile over his shoulder. "One for each day."

"So we won't mix them up," Colt added, holding his fist out towards his brother. Grinning, Rocky bumped Colt's fist with his own.

"Very funny," Tum-Tum said, making a face. Then he gave Colt a smug smile. Colt shoved his shoulder and Tum-Tum punched him in the side. "And I saw you get seconds." Rocky gave Colt a "he's got you there" look.

"Yeah, and you don't complain when I use the protein powder in my pancakes," Sam said with a chuckle.

Colt shrugged. If Tum-Tum was going to insist on using chocolate flavored protein powder, then he couldn't expect anyone to be anything but annoyed when they got watered down chocolate and not a creamy milkshake. There was a difference between a protein shake and a nice cold dessert treat. Whoever thought pancakes with a bit of a vanilla flavor to it could be pretty good, though? But there was a difference between a protein shake and a nice cold dessert treat.

"Jeffery, you've got to keep your focus," Sam said, "there were plenty of easy catches you should have gotten today, and you didn't get all your reps in." Colt twisted his mouth to the side. "It's like I always tell you, you keep going until the play is called." He waved his hand in the air. "Go ahead inside. I need to move the car back into the garage. Oh, and Jeffery?" Colt turned on his heels, peeling his shirt away from his chest with a pinch of his fingers. "Have you gotten your history assignment back yet? I want to know how you did."

"Yeah, I'll go get it."

Sam nodded and turned towards the cars. Colt stuttered a couple of steps, waiting to see if Sam was going to say anything else, but he kept walking. Of course, nothing was said to Rocky. Colt turned towards Rocky and Tum-Tum who were close to the stairs. Rocky shrugged, indicating with his head for them to follow him into the house (after following their dad's call to remove their shoes before doing so).

"Hey." Rocky reached for Colt's elbow as soon as they stepped through the garage door. Colt swung his arm out of his brother's reach but stayed in step beside him. "I know you're annoyed dad didn't say anything to me, but—"

"I'm not annoyed." Colt made a noise with his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. "Just leave it, Rock."

Rocky flung out his hand, catching his brother in the chest. He even matched Colt's trademark, heavy-eyelid, eyebrows raised, jaw slack look, making sure he had his brother's attention. "Trust me," he said, flatly, "I'm going to get it later. Watch: dad will make some sort of comment that because I wasn't focused, you and Tum weren't either, and he'll remind me that it's important that I remember that you and Tum look up to me, and I need to lead by example."

Colt angled his head towards the kitchen. He could hear his mom humming, the sound of pots clanging, footsteps. There was a pause and then he could hear water flowing, followed by a scraping sound. Another moment of silence, and then the sound of a knife repeatedly hitting a cutting board.

"Has Emily found out anything?" Colt asked, crossing his arms over his chest, stepping closer to his brother.

"If she had, I would have told you," Rocky replied.

"Maybe not." Colt's lips slowly parted into a teasing smile. "She texts you about nothing just to talk to you. Who knows what you two crazy kids talk about at all hours now that you don't use a can for a phone."

"You mean because we now have privacy?"

"Precisely." Colt grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

For a moment, Rocky stared at his brother. "Is there ever a time in your life where you're not a jerk?" He lifted his hand when Colt prepared himself for a witty answer. "I'm just saying, once I'm away at school, things will be a lot easier around here if you at least try and get along with dad."

"I try," Colt insisted. Rocky pulled his mouth to one side. "Believe me all I do is try."

"Going on the defensive isn't trying," Rocky replied.

"Oh, come on."

"Look, I get it. Trust me, if Emily found out anything, you and Tum would be the first to know." He was silent for a moment. "She's in a good place. I'm just worried this will bring up a lot for her." He rubbed his chin and let out an odd laugh. "The timing is just tricky."

"Especially if we get any more information from grandpa," Colt agreed. "Before we get up there, though, I was thinking we could maybe get some more information here." Grabbing Rocky's arm, he led him down the hall until they reached the closed door of their dad's office. "See what matches up?"

Pulling a hand over his mouth, the corner's of Rocky's lips were pulled into a frown. "You know how dad is with his office," Rocky said, lowering his voice. "We're not allowed in there without his permission. And he has classified information in there. Other cases."

Colt let out a high-pitched scoff. Classified information his foot! They wouldn't have even known about Snyder's link to their family if he hadn't left a picture of him in his office. Or that his mom even gave him permission to look at it in the first place. Then again, it was just a picture, and his grandpa did have it displayed on his mantle.

Kind of.

But Rocky was right as always. The office usually was off limits; locked unless their dad was in it and even then, everything with a key hole was locked and the keys never seen until they were needed.

"It's just an idea," Colt replied. "Something to go off of until we get to grandpa's."

"Or, we can forget about all of this for a little bit," Rocky said, running his hands over his face. "Jase said something about a bonfire tonight? That sounds really good about now."

Colt chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, Brett told me about it, too," Colt replied. "God, I honestly just need a break from all of this." He waved his arms in the air, indicating the house. Rocky nodded solemnly.

"Things will go back to normal," he said, reassuringly. "It always does."

Whatever that meant. In a year's time, Rocky would be gone. That sure as hell wouldn't be normal. Not at first, Colt surmised. Eventually, they would get used to it. But Rocky had always been there. He didn't know a life without him. Not that he was getting mushy. It was just weird to think about.

"Yeah. The good old-fashioned brotherly love, school hell, and cave of gold seeking, one-eyed poison dumping, terrorists taking over amusement parks kind of normal." Even Rocky had to laugh at the comment. "Anyway, I figured I'd ask about the bonfire after I show mom and dad my history assignment."

"Softening them with good news," Rocky said, "smart."

 _Yeah, I had enough time to learn._ Colt clenched his teeth together to start had to bite back the sarcastic remark that instantly came to his mind.

Rocky reached into the pocket of his athletic shorts and retrieved his phone. "I'll see if Em is going."

"May as well let Tum know," Colt said, "you know he'll try and tag along anyway."

"To his first high school party?" Rocky's eyebrows lifted. "You really think he'd pass that up?" He then bowed his head, his thumbs flying over his phone screen. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him."

"Great."

"You think I didn't do the same for you at your first party?" Rocky asked, briefly glancing up from his phone. "Get used to it. Mom and dad will expect it from you all the time once I'm gone."

"What, are you going to check in and make sure we're not getting into any trouble?"

"If I want to." A smirk appeared on Rocky's face, a flicker of amusement coming to his eyes. "I'm actually waiting for the day when someone is smart enough to deal with us separately."

That was one thing Colt found a lot of people mistook about Rocky: that he was serious all the time. Even in the most dangerous positions they had found themselves in, Rocky knew when to joke and make light of a situation. He was just as quick thinking in regard to thinking three steps ahead as he was with his wit. People latched too tightly to the "Rock" part of his nickname. Sure, he could be the most levelheaded and adult-like out of the three of them, or anyone in a room with him, but he also knew how to poke fun.

It just made him wonder how much people stuck to their ideas of what kind of person he was. If Rocky wanted to be more like Colt, in some cases Colt could say he wanted to be more like Rocky. Maybe it meant he wouldn't be compared to Rocky as much. Or be second guessed on everything he wanted to do. He knew he could be overconfident. He knew he was a sarcastic person. He knew there were times where he was impulsive and leapt before he looked. Or he talked back when the situation didn't call for it. But there was more to him than that. He was just as capable of being like Rocky. With everyone demanding that of him all the time, he just didn't want to do it.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," he agreed.

Rocky's phone chimed in his hand and he glanced down at the screen, his lips moving as he silently read the text he received. "Em's in."

"Cool. I'll check to see if Jo is free. She hasn't been down this way in a while." Colt angled his head, motioning for Rocky to follow him as he made his way through the house and towards the stairs. "She was actually supposed to start school with us a couple times a week. I haven't heard back from her about why she hasn't shown up. Figured we could go check on her anyway."

Rocky peered curiously at his brother and Colt kept his gaze on where he was going. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea," he agreed. "I doubt Jase's car will make it all the way up there, let alone to the beach so I can grab him and Em if you want to get Jo."

"Sure, sounds good."

"Ok." Rocky suddenly shoved Colt's shoulder and he collided with the wall at the top of the landing.

"Dude!"

"For someone named Colt," Rocky said, jumping out of the way of Colt's swing in retaliation, "you're pretty slow." Colt aimed a second punch at him and Rocky darted towards the bathroom door, laughing. "I call first shower."

Rolling his eyes, Colt instead made a beeline for his room. Retrieving his backpack, he looked through his school books and found the assignment in question and made a beeline for the stairs.

"Please hold the applause," Colt announced, brandishing the paper in his hand with a flourish. He ignored Tum-Tum's snort from the kitchen oven, where he stood with his head tilted back, fingers pinching chunks of raw onion over his mouth. "For those of you who doubted me, read it and weep: I got an A- on my history assignment." Dropping into his seat at the kitchen table, he slapped the graded stack of paper down onto the table, just missing the bowl of taco sauce. "Not bad, huh?"

"Sarcasm aside," Sam said with a chuckle from his seat at the head of the table, "well done." Sam got to his feet and reached across the table, careful not to get the hem of his shirt in the food stretching the length of the table.

Tortilla rolls, hard taco shells, bowls of shredded lettuce, shredded cheese, guacamole, salsa, and so much more taco fixings were on the table. Finally they were breaking from their usual weekday dinner schedule: Sundays was fish; Mondays was something even the boys know how to make, like burgers due to their father's heavier schedule at the beginning of the week; Tuesdays was chicken, Wednesdays was spaghetti or any other pasta dish; and Thursdays was beef or pork. Friday and Saturday, and occasionally Sunday was finally the days of the week for "good food." Pizza, tacos, chili, corn dogs, seafood, fast food, everything that made eating worth it. Especially for Tum-Tum.

"I'm proud of you, Jeffery," Jessica said with a smile. She set a pitcher of lemonade onto what little space the table had left before leaning over to kiss the top of his head. "The first of many."

"As long as he keeps his focus, that should be no problem," Sam commented, flipping through the stapled pages. "Right?"

"Right, dad," Colt replied with over the top enthusiasm and a thumbs up. Tum-Tum snorted for a second time before he doubled over, coughing, hand over his mouth. "Ha. That's what you get, Tum."

"Boys be nice," Jessica said, crossing the kitchen to come to Tum-Tum's aide.

"These last two years are important, Jeffery," Sam said. Colt settled back in his chair, preparing himself for another college lecture. "Every grade counts. If we can keep these grades up, show steady improvements, people will accept your application to their schools, no problem. Have you thought any more about what it is you want to study?"

"I thought you didn't have to worry about that until your sophomore year," Colt commented, reaching for the bowl of cheese. He pinched a clump between his fingers and held it above his mouth. Colt knew college was important step in life. He knew that having great grades to get into colleges was important. They had just talked the subject to death, and he wasn't even applying yet. "That's when you have to declare it, right?"

Sam sighed when Colt dropped the cheese into his mouth and started chewing. "Yes, that's when everyone officially declares their major," he explained, "but if you already know what you want to do, you can start focusing on all of the courses needed for graduation."

"That's what I did," Jessica said. "Once I got to my Senior year, I only had one required course left, and then I could choose any other course I wanted to learn just for the fun of it." She pushed her hair out of her face and lowered herself into her seat. "And, depending on your major, some degree requirements may be offered at weird times.

"Yes, get to them while you can," Sam pointed out. "The first two years of college are generally to get the general education out of the way, but if you already know what you want to do, why not just jump in?"

"And here I thought you wanted us with our nose to the baseball mitt," Colt commented. He rolled his head on his shoulders to face his dad. Sam held his gaze.

"Get your courses out of the way as soon as possible, and you'll have no problem keeping a student-athlete balance," Sam replied. "You need good grades to keep yourself on any team you're a part of. You can't skip, some universities make sure all their athletes go to all their classes." He cleared his throat. "Not to mention with all of the money your mother and I will be paying for you to attend school, you better not be skipping."

"No skipping," Colt repeated, "got it." University was never going to be a problem for them financially. Scholarships would be great to receive, but even Colt knew that he wasn't anyone who was going to be scouted. Any scholarship for him would mainly fall on his academics. "I'll make sure you don't find out about it."

"Jeffery," Jessica said in a warning tone. She had an amused lift to her tone.

"Isn't that what college is about?" Colt asked with an innocent smile, "learning how to be on your own? Parents don't check up on you anymore?"

"Here's something you'll understand whenever you become a parent," Sam said, "parents never stop checking up on you." His gaze lifted from his son and settled on his wife. "They never stop worrying."

Colt grabbed the napkin by his plate between his fingers and balled it up in his hands. Feeling eyes on him, he looked across the table at Tum-Tum who stared back with his wide brown eyes. This is what he hated the most: the silence. The arguments weren't fun to listen to, but at least they were still speaking to each other. When it was silent, it was hard to figure out what was going on in their parents' heads.

"So…" Tum-Tum said, drawing circles on the kitchen table with his index finger, "can we eat now?"

* * *

Keeping his head pointed straight at his plate, Colt cast his gaze down at his cell phone. His fingers moved deftly, tapping at the touchscreen keypad to respond to the text message that he had received. Swinging his leg to the side, he struck Rocky in the ankle.

It had been decided long ago that Tum-Tum was to have a side to the table all to himself. Colt had the honors first and had repeatedly been threatened to get a fork to the hand. Sometimes just for even thinking about reaching in the direction of a serving plate. After some arguments, Rocky had taken his turn on Tum-Tum's side of the table but got annoyed with Tum-Tum's arms shooting in front of his face, and even more annoyed when a "Mooooom" shout would instantly burst forth from him in response to Rocky's quick deflection with a side swipe of his arm. It was better to give him plenty of space to reach out and grab seconds and thirds whenever he wanted.

Chewing on his bite of taco, Rocky shot Colt a glare of annoyance. His eyebrows lifted, silently demanding an explanation. In response, Colt contorted his face and stuck out his tongue, tilting his phone in his brother's direction. Rocky glanced down at the screen, squinting at the darkened screen.

Colt chuckled. Muttering "Old man" under his breath, he brightened the screen all the way. Kicking Colt back, Rocky's frown deepened, and he reached over to dim the screen a bit more.

Only really needed his glasses to read, Rocky would still need to be reminded not to strain his eyes further at times. Even then he would still, at times, be reminded not to strain his eyes any further. He almost went as far as setting an alarm to take breaks from staring at computer and phone screens. If they weren't meant to keep their phones on the living room table overnight, Colt was sure he'd be searing his retinas in the middle of the night, checking his notifications.

"No phones at the table, please."

"Sorry," Rocky and Colt instantly apologized. Colt lifted his head from his phone. There's a bonfire on the beach tonight, Brett was wondering if we were going. So, can we go?"

"Me, too?" Tum-Tum asked.

"You're included in the 'we', stupid," Colt said to him.

"Don't call me 'stupid', idiot," Tum-Tum shot back.

"Boys." Sam lowered the taco that was in his hands to his plate. He wiped the orange grease from his fingers on his napkin. "This is the first I've heard about any bonfire."

"Didn't really plan on going before," Colt said with a shrug. "We've got all our homework done, did our chores, got dad's work out done. Can we go?" He turned towards his mom. "Please?"

"Rocky, were you going to go?" Jessica asked.

"Even if I wasn't, I was going to at least drive Jase and Em," Rocky replied. "Give him a break from a night of his car breaking down. Again." Jessica hummed. "Come on, even Colt got his homework done before Sunday."

"Yeah!" There wasn't any point in mentioning that he didn't have a lot to begin with. "Wouldn't the two of you enjoy a night to yourself?"

"Of course not," Sam said, sarcastically, "we enjoy listening to the three of you beat up on each other. It's soothing. In fact, we had kids because our boring, quiet lives needed some spicing up."

Jessica laughed at her kids groans and shouts in response and smiled at the wink Sam threw her way. "It's all right with us." Colt instantly pushed his chair back, calling for the next shower. "Just let us know when you get there and when you're on your way back."

"Of course," Rocky said moving to kiss his mom on the cheek. "You don't have to worry about a thing. Tum, you want to roll with me or Colt? He's going to get Jo and meet us there."

"I'll go 'ith 'Olt," Tum-Tum said around the taco in his mouth. Standing over his plate, his head tilted to the side, he took a large bite out of the taco in his hands and the contents dripped out onto the plate. Lifting the plate underneath his jaw, he stepped away from the table and saw everyone was staring at him. His eyes widened. "''at? It's a 'aco ta go."

"Just hurry up and get showered," Colt said, shoving him towards the stairs. He lifted his hand in a wave over his shoulder. "See ya. Thanks for dinner, it was great."

Twenty minutes later, Colt was settled back in the driver's seat of the car, with Brett in the passenger seat and Tum-Tum in the back. "Could you take it easy?" Brett asked, tightly gripping the assist handle above his head as Colt maneuvered his car along the dusty, bumpy, road.

"You're welcome to walk," Colt replied. Glancing over at his brother, he smiled to himself, adding some pressure to the gas pedal. Brett's free hand swung up to grab his arm rest and he said in a tight voice, " _Colt_!" Tum-Tum laughed. "It shouldn't take long."

"You were on bikes before you had your car," Brett reminded him. " _And_ you were usually going from your grandpa's house."

"Just pull a Rocky and make sure to give us a kiss goodbye if you're so worried about it," Tum-Tum said with a laugh. Colt took one hand off the steering wheel and reached behind him. Tum-Tum slapped his palm.

"You're never going to let him forget that, are you?" Brett asked with a grin.

"Don't count on it," Colt said.

"Yeah, don't count on it," Tum-Tum parroted. "But, uh, could you slow down a bit?" Twisting his mouth to the side, Colt removed some of the pressure on the gas pedal. "Thanks."

"Don't forget Rocky was the one who nearly drove us into a boulder," Colt replied, looking at Tum-Tum in the rear-view mirror. "Down an embankment. And he learned on a video game." _And they call me overconfident._

"Ok, so…I'll have mom teach me when I get older?" Tum-Tum asked.

"Uh, yeah." As the road evened out, Colt pulled the car up to a wooden fence, and turned it off. He settled back in his seat and looked out the front windshield just in time to see a group of six horse riders speeding across the land.

They could heard the clomping of the hooves on the ground, the whoops, and cheers from the riders. Pulling hard on the reigns, they pulled their horses to a stop and climbed down, and patted their flanks, brushing down their hair. Colt popped open the car door and stood up on the side of his car.

"Hey, Blackfeather," he called, hands cupped around his mouth. The group of riders all turned to look at him, but the one standing closest to him, long hair pulled back into a ponytail smiled, waving a hand in the air. "You see Jo?"

"She's with the medicine woman." Blackfeather walked his horse closer to their side of the fence. "Welcome back to our land." He peered into the car. "I do not see young Rocky?" He waved at Tum-Tum who scrambled to get out of the car, beaming.

"He's picking up some of our other friends." Colt explained their plans as Brett also climbed out of the car. Blackfeather nodded at Brett in greeting. "We wanted to see if Jo was free to come with us tonight." Colt's eyebrows pulled towards each other. "You said she was with the medicine woman. She's not sick, is she?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Blackfeather replied. A deep frown came to his face as his horse let out a deep whinny, shaking it's head. "She's just helping. The elders are getting ill, some of the children. She is helping to gather supplies to treat them."

"It's not something bad is it?" Tum-Tum asked. The most sensitive out of the three Douglas boys, Colt could instantly hear the sadness and worry in his voice.

Blackfeather was silent for a moment. " We wish for ease of their ailments," he explained, "and for rest and wellness. If it is their time, we know how to keep everyone comfortable. We will continue to survive."

"I do hope everyone makes a quick recovery," Colt said, slamming his car door shut. "It was nice to see you again."

Blackfeather slowly nodded. "You as well, young Colt." With the click of his teeth, he started leading his horse away.

"Come on, I think the healer is this way." Colt walked around the back of his car and placed a hand on Brett's shoulder. "Remember the rules here, ok?"

"Don't take any pictures or videos of anyone or activities," Brett said, counting off on his fingers, "be respectful of the elders; listen more than talk, follow all the laws I would follow outside native land, don't take anything, and don't interrupt chants or dances."

"Right," Colt nodded.

"The Tawankans won't start over, you know?" Tum-Tum said. His chest stuck out, proud that he was able to contribute. Despite rolling his eyes at his brother's bravado, Colt couldn't blame him for acting that way. It was a cool thing to know that he was an honorable Tawankan tribe member. Not a lot of people got that distinction, and he was for sure going to keep it and protect it. "They will just keep going until they finish with the ceremony. It could take minutes, hours. You could be asked to join, too. But, if you have to leave, do so quietly."

"Got it." Brett gave a thumbs up. "I won't disappoint you, promise." He leaned forward to look past Colt to Tum-Tum, offering his hand for a low-five. "You either, Mikey." Colt clapped his friend on the back and quickened his pace, making his way past the buildings in the area.

A lot of the clay, brick, adobe dwellings that were around years ago had now been either replaced with modern designs or had them built in addition to the older dwellings. They passed men, women, and children with thick dark hair. Some had their hair flowing behind them, some had their hair in ponytails like Blackfeather, some with braids adorned with colorful bands and beads, and even a few had shorter, sharper haircuts. Some were wearing traditional clothing, some in more modern style such as jeans and flower print shirts, and some with a combination of the two.

They passed by what used to the location of the old school building and used to be a group of trailers. The trailers had been built upon, expanding the space to look a bit more like a warehouse building, the sides emblazoned with "Business Center" on a large plaque. They passed a visitor center, small stores, and houses, making their way closer to the heart of the town. The new domed school buildings further ahead of them, branching off from the main street.

Glancing back over their shoulders, the sights were filled with the mountain range the reservation was nestled in. The setting sun was positioned perfectly to allow the pinks, purples, and reds of not only the skies but the mountains to stand out, picturesque against the otherwise reddish brown and white buildings. The road twisted and turned away from the center of the reservation, leading towards the casinos, stores, medical center, and homestead keeping all of the livestock. Lush grass and trees had grown to bring some extra color into the town. He could hear the faint sound of drums and chanting echoing from over the distance.

Despite all of the growth the area had, the main asphalt roads had large cracks in them, if they were even paved over at all. Trash lined the fields. Broken wagons, wagon parts, buckets, graffitied signs, and frayed rope were strewn between buildings and lay haphazardly on the ground. Even near the post office, and the community center.

"Oh!" Tum-Tum explained, pulling Colt's gaze away from a kid rushing past on a toy scooter. "I see her. I see Jo."

Colt looked up the path to spot their friend, a basket of flowers hanging from the crook of her arm. A group of kids surrounded her, jumping on the balls of their feet, reaching for the basket. Smiling sweetly, Jo would spin away from them and they would run after her, grabby hands reaching towards her. As they got closer, Colt could hear what they were saying.

"Pleas, can you show us, Jo?"

"We want some."

"Come on, just one. You have plenty."

Jo's laughter wafted over to them as she kneeled in front of the kids, handing each of them one flower. "Ok, now first you have to be careful not to eat the dirt, and not to get any ants," she said.

"Ewww." The kids tittered and laughed, jostling each other to get the best view.

"Ok, so you're going to pinch this end right here," she showed all of the kids where to grab a hold of the flower. "This little green part, see? Ok, you're going to slooooowly pull it out, until you get this white part to come out. And there at the end—" she let out an exaggerated gasp when a clear bulb appeared on the end of the stem in her fingers. "That's the nectar. That's the part you can eat. Go on, try."

Sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, Colt watched Jo with the little kids. If there was one thing he liked about her, it was how she always seemed to be able to connect with just about everyone. She had a sweet demeanor to her and could treat everyone with respect until they gave her a reason not to, and she could hold her own just as well as anybody. She was brave when she needed to be as evidenced with taking the task of finding her missing dad all those years ago all on her own until Colt and his brothers stepped in to help.

"Ugh." Jo twisted her face, making a show of sticking out her tongue and spitting. "I got some ants you guys. Gross!" Collectively, the kids pointed their fingers at her and laughed. Once she got to her feet, she stepped past the kids, apologizing that she could not give them any more. "Run along. It's Saturday, go play."

"Bye, Jo."

"Bye, bye."

The kids all ran off, shouting about racing each other to the horses, and Jo shook her head, watching them. Then her eyes landed on Brett, Colt, and Tum-Tum and her face lit up. "Hi," she greeted, making a beeline for them. "What are you guys doing here?" She used an arm to loop around the boys' necks as she hugged Tum-Tum, Colt, and, Brett in turn. "You could have told me you were coming."

"And ruin the surprise?" Colt asked. "There's a bonfire tonight and thought you wanted to come. I tried texting you."

"I saw your last Instagram post was tagged up here," Brett explained. Brett and Jo hadn't known each other for too long, just a couple of years. Occasionally, Jo would come into town with her parents or on her own to attend some events and to see her friends, and Colt introduced the two of them. Brett had instantly latched on to the fact that she was "the Jo" that he had met one summer. He was a supporter when Colt and Jo attempted to date, and an even bigger supporter of their friendship and ability to remain friends after it had fizzled.

Jo sighed. "I've been out of range all day," she said, reaching into her back pocket to retrieve her phone.

"Plus, you don't have much cell reception up here," Tum-Tum said swinging his own phone from left to right trying to get any amount of bars

"Good news is, we're looking to expand the broadband reach throughout the area." Jo didn't look to be bothered by the news. Why would she? After all, she had lived her whole life in the area. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her. She said just as much. "It'll take a while until it's all done, and we get some decent reception, though." Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh, but they're working on setting up Wi-Fi for more of us, here."

"About time," Tum-Tum commented.

"Most around here don't feel that we need it." She used her free hand to indicate the land around them before placing it on the small of Tum-Tum's back. "This is our own world up here. If there is anything we do not have access to here, we will just go into town."

"So, you won't be going into town much anymore?" Brett asked, falling into step with her. "I thought you were going to take some classes with us during the week."

"I still am," Jo replied. "It's just everything that's been happening here, I needed to stay and help where I could. I'm keeping up with my classes. I'll be there on Monday, I promise."

"Blackfeather told us that people were getting sick?" Colt asked. Jo slowed her pace slightly, allowing Tum-Tum and Brett to step past her. She peered curiously at Colt. "It's not the same thing is it?"

"We're still recovering from what happened," Jo said after a stretch of silence. "There was so much garbage, and chemicals on our land. In the water, in the grass we feed the cattle, in our food. Many people don't understand that we're so connected to the environment around us." She waved her hand to one of the elders they passed. They nodded as the group passed, sitting in a chair outside their home, watching life go on around them. "It can only grow, and recover, if we help it to. People were disgusted when they found out what happened with Harding, but not enough to come and help us rebuild."

"There are people still being affected by what happened?" Brett asked quietly.

"Yes, we believe that is what is causing the sickness now," Jo said with a nod. "For the elders. For the infants…well, things may have improved after Jack Hardin was arrested, but it has not changed."

"What do you mean?" Tum-Tum asked with a deep frown.

"My dad told me," Jo said, taking in the boys' looks of alarm, "that there is a loophole he is currently doing his best to fight that allows people to still dump oil and chemicals on our land. It is still getting into our water. These children, they are just trying to live, and play and explore, and instead they're getting sick." She shook her head back and forth. "There is still a fight for our right to live in peace. I don't suppose it will ever stop." She shifted the basket in her arms, indicating the flowers. "The healer can't go as far, so I have been gathering what they need."

"You have the," Colt cleared his throat, suddenly finding it dry, "the medical center, the hospital."

Jo gave him a patient smile. "Not everyone here wishes to step away from what they know will ease them," she explained. "They will go to our healer first, before deciding if they wish to be transferred to the medical center. We do not force them to seek treatment they do not want." She then put a bright smile to her face. "I didn't mean to tell you all of that. I think a bonfire would be fun. Just let me drop this off and call my mom and dad. Iwill also notify the chief in case I a will be needed. I'll meet you at your car?"

"We can wait for you," Colt offered.

Brett looked back and forth between the two of them, his gaze lingering on Colt for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips and he angled his head towards Tum-Tum. "Hey, Tum, why don't you come show me if this Visitor's Center has some candy or something," he offered. "It's been too long since dinner and who knows if there will be any food at this bonfire."

"Oh, they've got some _great_ maple candy you have to try," Tum-Tum said, instantly playing into Brett's hand.

"I'm headed this way," Jo said, giving Colt a smile. She stepped through the space between two houses and started across the thin grass. She headed straight for the houses nestled into the thick line of trees at the edge of the clearing. Despite all of the more newly built buildings, there were still rundown looking buildings on the reservations, the houses looking the most dilapidated.

"I didn't mean to worry you. We just take everything one day at a time here. Rebuild where we can and spread the word to those who are willing to listen. That's where my mom and dad are now: they still go into town and hand out flyers, attend hearings to get the chance to explain what we have endured." She gave Colt a wry smile, her ponytail skimming across her shoulder blades as she did so. "Mother Nature will thank us for it. She can be a cruel one."

"Yeah, and Father Time wants to rob us of our youth," Colt said with a laugh. Jo laughed along with him.

"You joke," she said, poking a finger into his bicep, "but it's true." He pushed her hand away, holding onto it for a brief moment. She swept her gaze over the vast expanse of grasslands. "We'll endure. We always do. Our land was built on the strength of our ancestors and that blood still runs through our veins.

That was another thing Colt liked about Jo. She had unwavering optimism and strength. Even if he were the one having an issue, she could always pull a smile from him, and somehow get him to leave the tribe lands with a clearer head than when he arrived. And he felt that same sense of clarity when he carefully backed his car out of his parking spot and headed back down the mountains fifteen minutes later. Jo, Tum-Tum, and Brett talked about their lives and school on the way. Colt chimed in here and there but otherwise his thoughts were preoccupied.

Maybe there was more to his grandfather's teachings about the flowers. He didn't understand it at first, thought it was stupid to "listen to the flowers", but like always, his grandpa's teachings had a point behind them. It was what he was always told; don't be overconfident. Don't expect praise for something he should do without thinking about it: helping. But, maybe, like flowers, they were always meant to thrive. No matter how many times they were cut down they would continue to grow, to adapt to their environment and continue to bloom. Like how despite how things were around this time of year, he and his mom, and his dad, and his brothers would in fact be able to one day move on.

 _Yeah, and you'll blossom into a new version of you, too_ , Colt thought with an eye roll, _give me a break._ He grabbed the volume dial on his radio and turned it up. Anything to get that stupid thought of his head.

Upon arriving at the beach, and after quick, loud, and enthusiastic greeting between Emily and Jo (and a more subdued one between Rocky and Jo, and Jason and Jo), they all broke off into smaller groups to enjoy the party. Tum-Tum made a beeline for some of the guys in his class, trying not to make it look too obvious that he was standing just outside of Amy Everhart's orbit.

"Just go and say 'hi' and offer to get her something to drink," Jo had gently suggested. Now, with the side glances at her, it looked like Tum-Tum was finding the right time to pluck up the courage to do so.

Brett had made a beeline for whichever car the music was coming from, and Rocky, Jason, and Emily looked for places closest to the bonfire to claim for their group. Colt leaned back against the trunk of his car, allowing the ocean breeze to wash over him. There were a lot of people from the school enjoying themselves as the sun set. Further down was a group playing soccer on the beach, extending as far as the water's edge in their game. In the gaps of sound from his schoolmates, Colt could just hear their whoops and hollers for each goal and shouts of, "Chuck it over here, mate," "Cross it, aye," and "Good one, you," after a particularly nice pass.

"Have you ever heard of the legend of the two wolves?" Jo asked from his side.

Using his hand to push his blowing hair back behind his ears, Colt gave her a confused look. He wasn't surprised that she was still there. He shook his head back and forth.

"Everyone feels like they're being pulled in two different directions, trying to appease the two sides of them," Jo explained. "Right and wrong. Just like the wolves. One personifies arrogance, anger, jealousy, regret, evil and the other represents kindness, peace, hope humility, compassion and truth." She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her shoulder against the tailgate. "You have to find a way to feed them both. One side thinks their hardships are unique to them, no one else will understand. The other wolf explains everyone has rough patches and just like the one before, they'll get through it again."

"You sound like grandpa," Colt commented. Jo just smiled. "Do you ever wonder if whenever Harding gets out of prison, he could just start this whole thing up again?" Colt asked, turning towards Jo who had stuck beside him.

"All the time." Sighing, she scratched at her hairline. "We were all happy when he was convicted, but we always knew that if one person didn't see an issue with what they were doing to our land, someone else would. That's proving to be true. I don't doubt for a second he would just go back to what he was doing before if he ever got out."

"Do you think things would have actually worked out better if we told adults about what was going on?"

"Is that what's bothering you? Rocky says you've been off lately."

"Well, I'm glad you two have nothing better to talk about than me."

"He's just worried."

"I just..." Colt sighed through his nose, facing her head on. "We had the opportunity to tell dad about Grandpa and Snyder, but we didn't. As soon as we got back to the house, he was leaving, and the next morning, he was already at work. By that point, we just didn't think it was really anything to worry about."

"And then you were kidnapped."

"And then we were kidnapped." Colt pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. "Then with you and the Tawanka tribe, I keep thinking that if we just told Grandpa what we were doing, maybe it would have helped."

"Colt, we had protesters going into town, going to that landfill every day, and people still weren't listening," Jo explained. "We had even taken them some pictures, showed them some burial plots, told them about all the children that were dying. Still, no one wanted to help." She let out a scoffing laugh. "Besides, you know parents don't always listen to kids."

"Yeah."

"Stop feeding that wolf, Colt. That guilt is just going to make things a lot worse. No one blames you for any of this. Not you, not Tum, not even Rock, so you can stop blaming yourself. No one is going to look at you differently because you choose to allow yourself to enjoy the life you have."

Colt shifted his weight from foot to foot. Maybe it was just because it was coming from someone outside of the family, or admittedly it was just because it came from her, but he found himself really hanging on to her words. Still, he recognized that this was a moment they could enjoy, and he needed to change the subject.

"So when do I meet the guy?" he asked.

"What guy?" Jo asked, taken aback.

"The guy on your Insta."

"Oh, Cedar?"

"If that's his name."

"Cedar Cloudstrike, yeah. Most of us don't call him Cedar, though. Just Cloud."

"Wait." Colt started to laugh. "Jo Lightning and Cedar Cloudstrike?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'Lighting and Cloud', I get it." Jo laughed, too. "I'll introduce you the next time you're in the area. He's a good guy."

"Good. I'm glad." And he meant it.

"We're just friends."

"Ok." Jo twisted his mouth to the side, lifting an eyebrow as she scrutinized Colt. "Seriously. It's great he's a good guy." The long distance wasn't really an issue in their relationship at the time, especially with the close proximity to his grandpa's cabin. It was just too much pressure. Everyone talked about how they were just waiting for them to get together, and how they made a cute couple, and how they were perfect together. Almost like it was decided for them that they were to be together. It was great while it lasted, the only thing Colt would have changed was the outside expectations and pressure pushing down around him.

He should have gotten used to it. It was the story of his life, after all.

Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum made it back home after a few hours on the beach. They safely dropped their friends off at home and stepped through their house, looking for their parents to check in and let them know they had made it safely back home. They didn't have to go far as they found their parents in the kitchen, dancing around the room to the soft music playing from their phone on the table.

They stepped and spun around the kitchen, trying complicated tangled turns, and trying not to step on each other's feet. Sam dipped Jessica, ignoring her laugh-filled warnings not to drop her before pulling her close, slowly swaying from side to side.

"What the?" Tum-Tum asked, coming to a sudden stop. Rocky bumped into him and Colt stopped short enough to avoid a collision.

"Get out of the way," Colt groaned, pushing the two of them.

"Knock it off." Rocky shoved him back, throwing a look of annoyance of his shoulder.

"Hey, mom?" Tum-Tum called.

"Sssh!" Rocky and Colt shushed him in unison.

"But, they're in front of the—"

"Sssh!"

Tum-Tum quietly, with exaggerated steps, tip-toed past their parents, across the kitchen, and to the fruit bowl on the counter, grabbing an orange. Jessica laughed when she spotted him, turning away from Sam long enough to give her sons a wave.

"Our sons are home," she said to Sam.

"I noticed," Sam said. "Good night, boys."

"Good night," the three of them answered in unison.

As Jessica and Sam danced, whispering to each other and laughing, Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum watched from the doorway, exchanging embarrassed, yet amused smiles. Rocky was the first to of the three to leave, and them Tum-Tum a little while later, no doubt looking to start up a video game. Colt stayed a little while longer, making sure to snap a photo with his phone before he, too, left his parents in their own world.

* * *

 **A/N:** A longer chapter to make up for how long it's been since I've updated this. I have also decided that this series will be set in modern times so I went back and changed a few small bits in previous chapters to reflect that. We'll be getting back into Snyder's side of things with the next chapter and we'll also be seeing Grandpa Mori shortly. Thank you all for taking the time to read this and leaving a review if you have done so.

Just like Emily, I decided to use Jo's actress's last name for her character's last name.

Don't forget to check out my sister's 3 ninjas fanfics, _Crossroads_ , a Rocky centered story. We've always been and continue to be huge fans of the movie series so expect more fics from us in this fandom as time goes on.

 **-Rhuben**


	6. First Contact

**Chapter 06**

Phone clutched in his hand, Colt shuffled through his living room, attempting to blink the sleep from his eyes.

The Douglases had two rules regarding cell phones in their house: not at the dinner table, and not in their room when going to bed. Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum had been handed article after article and doled out numerous lectures regarding how late-night cell phone use could affect their sleep patterns so often that Colt had nightmares about it. He didn't need to know that there were people who had been burned because their phones overheated and burst into flames in the middle of the night.

Every night when turning into bed, all the phones in the Douglas home would be left on the living room table. Even their dad's work phone would sit beside theirs. "If there's an emergency," Sam had explained to his son's surprised looks, "people know they can reach me on the house phone. Or in my office

The only person who ever really called their home phone anymore was their grandpa. He had a cell phone himself and would occasionally call or text to ask for assistance with an app he wasn't sure how to use. Otherwise, it was strictly landlines for him. If anyone answered, great. If not, he'd just leave a message. No harm, no foul.

Even Colt would instantly call his parents' cell phones if he needed to get in touch with them. If they didn't answer, he'd try the house phone. No answer there and he'd call their cell phones again, only that time leaving a message and insisting it was "nothing important" and that "everything was ok." Tum-Tum had once made the mistake of not only never going as far as texting back an explanation as to why he didn't answer their mom's call, or even call her back. He was ambushed by two scared parents the second he had walked through the front door.

Once, Colt had alluded to Rocky that he had the suspicion that their parents checked the contents of their phones. Rocky had entertained the idea, but never really outright agreed or disagreed with his brother. "If anything," Rocky had said, going through his usual nightly routine of making sure he had his backpack packed for the next morning, "they just want to make sure we're not inviting strangers into the house."

Colt had waved that notion away saying, "Yeah, yeah." He even deepened his voice in an attempt to match his father's tone and added a, "You never know who you're truly talking to online."

Rocky had ended the conversation with a flat, "Exactly."

He didn't understand it at the time, but Colt wasn't looking at it from his parent's point of view. Why would he? His dad was in the freaking FBI, if he wanted to, he could get all of the information he wanted on anyone. If his friends had ever told him that Sam Douglas had vetted them at the beginning of their friendship, Colt would not be surprised.

Scrolling this his e-mail and social media applications, Colt took the stairs back up to his room. It felt good to stretch his sore muscles after a weekend of activities: baseball practices, working through katas with his brothers, and partying on the beach. Compared to all of that, a day at school was like sitting in the DMV. You just hoped and prayed for time to go by quickly with as minimal interactions as possible.

"Tum," he said, pushing open the cracked door with his foot, "time to get up." Colt only removed his gaze from him phone when he got a loud snore in response. Sighing, Colt dropped his arms down by his sides and stared at the sprawled lump that was his brother on his bed. Tum-Tum's cell phone was loosely held in the hand draped over the side of his bed. "Figures."

Colt tossed his cell phone onto his own bed and it bounced a couple of times on his mattress. "Tum!" Stepping across the room, Colt put his hands on his brother's shoulder and shook him. The snoring had paused briefly, but he still didn't wake up. With a muted _thump_ his cell phone fell to the floor. "Michael. Hey, Mike!" Colt threw his hands into the air, letting out a groan of frustration. "Oh my god, Tum."

After he retrieved his pillow from his bed, Colt made his way back out of his room and over to Rocky's, rapping his knuckles on the door frame. He had made the mistake one too many times of knocking and entering at the same time. A man gets his own room and he suddenly is all "Mr. Mature" and gained a freaking PhD to give him the right to lecture him (posed as a "reminder") that he had to wait for and answer before barging into his brother's room.

Rocky pulled the door open with one hand, the other adjusting the collar to his shirt. "What?" he asked.

"Tum won't wake up," Colt said. Yawning, he pushed a hand underneath the collar of his t-shirt to scratch at his collar bone.

Rocky stared at him. "Did you-?"

"Yes, I checked to make sure he was still alive." Colt rolled his eyes when Rocky laughed through his nose. You confuse a deep sleeping baby for being dead once, and exactly once, and it sticks with you for life. "Barely."

"What do you mean?" Rocky asked, eyebrows pulling towards each other in confusion.

"Meaning, he was up late last night, and I could barely catch a wink of sleep," Colt replied, leaning against the door frame. He closed his eyes. "Do you have any idea how loud chips actually are? Oof." He opened his eyes when he felt something soft yet firm strike him in the stomach. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the pillow Rocky was pushing into him, and effectively using to push him out of his room. "I seriously debated strangled him before I finally got to sleep."

Colt followed Rocky back into his room. Rocky stopped a few steps away from his sleeping brother. "How late was he up?" he asked.

"Until about three. Maybe four? I was kind of drifting at that point." Colt shrugged. "He was in and out of the room so often, I thought I was hallucinating. Things got kind of fuzzy."

"Well, no wonder," Rocky said, nodding towards Tum-Tum's phone on the floor. "He must have been on his phone all night." He peered curiously at his brother. A small grin came to his face. "Think he was talking to a girl? Amy maybe?"

"No way," Colt replied.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he freaks out anytime she even gives him something as small as an emoji asking me what I think she's saying," Colt said, giving Rocky a pointed look. Rocky shook his head back and forth, sharing a smile with Colt. Usually, Colt would take the time to make fun of his brother, but he knew that Rocky would instantly throw his own embarrassments back in his face. And Colt had just as much dirt on Rocky, too. It wasn't easy taking your first steps into the world of dating. But, what kind of brother would he be if he didn't have it in his pocket, just waiting to be used at an opportune moment? "He really couldn't get to sleep."

"Well he's out now." Rocky frowned. "Is this his first night having trouble sleeping?"

"No." Colt shook his head, pulling the corners of his lips down. "Maybe third or fourth time in the past few weeks." He gripped the corner of his pillow in his hand, swinging it towards the door. "I'd tell mom, but I don't think it's anything to worry about right now."

"Yeahhh." Rocky grimaced. "And I don't want to be around when mom tries restricting his dessert and after-dessert snack. Again." Colt hummed in agreement. "Ok, might as well try this before we get mom. One, two, three."

In unison, Rocky and Colt struck Tum-Tum on the shoulder and hips with their pillows. At first, Tum-Tum didn't react, he only continued to snore. He only stirred when Colt landed a square strike to his little brother's head.

"What?" Tum-Tum squinted against the morning light. "Geeze, what are you doing?"

"Waking you up," Rocky replied. Colt hit him once more for good measure. "Dude. Chill."

Tum-Tum rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes with balled fists. "'Time izzit?" he asked with a groan. He pushed his hands up over his face and into his hair before he stretched his arms out to the sides. His hair stuck up all over the place and Colt suddenly noticed just how young Tum-Tum was despite his growth over the years.

He could and still did act like the little kid that followed him and Rocky around all the time. It was almost unfair in a way; that Tum could and was almost expected to be as innocent for as long as possible. That he was expected to help him stay that way all the while being reminded that Rocky was going to be leaving soon and that he would have to step up.

Step up as what? As himself or as another Rocky? Get good grades like Rocky? Keep the peace like Rocky? Why didn't anyone believe he could handle things on his own, in the best way he knew how? He was sure everyone else would answer those questions for him before he even got the chance to figure it out himself.

"Morning," Colt said, grabbing his arm, "now, get up."

"Mom's already making breakfast," Rocky added, helping to pull Tum-Tum into a seated position. Tum-Tum groaned, leaning back, trying to get his body weight to pull him back onto his pillows. "No, no, no, don't lie back down! Get in the shower and you'll be awake in no time."

"All right, all right, I'm going," Tum-Tum said. Rocky and Colt exchanged glances but released Tum-Tum's arms. For a minute, he just sat there, eyes closed…until he started leaning backwards.

"Nice try, pal." Colt leaned across his brother and grabbed onto his arms, hauling him across his upper back and shoulders. "I'll put you in the shower with your clothes on if I have to." Steadying himself, Colt let out a sigh of frustration. "Sooner or later, Tum, you'll have to do things by yourself." He nearly laughed out loud. _How many times have I been told that? Here I go telling Tum the same thing._

Pulling the bathroom door shut behind him, Colt stretched his arms over his head. "Hey, Rock, what are the chances you think I could-?"

"Sssh." Rocky, who standing at the top of the stairs, held his hand out in Colt's direction, urging him to not only be quiet, but to stop moving.

"What?"

" _Sssssh!_ " Shooting his brother and annoyed look, Rocky lifted his finger to his mouth. "Listen."

"We talked about this and you said you would be there." Jessica's voice was heard over the sound of heavy footsteps and clanging of pots and pans. "They're expecting all of us, Sam."

"I understand that, Jessica." Sam's voice was louder. Laden with frustration and fatigue. "You know how unpredictable this job is."

Jessica let out a laugh. "Yes, Sam after numerous years and three sons, I know how unpredictable your job is."

Colt's eyebrows pulled towards each other and he stepped closer to the stairs. Rocky put a hand on his shoulder. Pulling himself away from his brother's touch, Colt sat down on the top stair,

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like I don't know how hard this has been. For you. For our family. You think I've been happy leaving you at the drop of a hat whenever we've been called in to take on a case? You think I've been happy missing Samuel's fifth birthday? Jeffery's third? Michael's first steps?"

Colt buried his face into his hands before he clasped his hands together under his chin. He only looked up at Rocky, teeth clenched, corners of his lips pulled down when Rocky shifted his weight on the top step, and it creaked. In the silence between their parents down stairs, the creak sounded louder than it probably was. Rocky's eyes widened, but he stayed frozen on the spot.

"Honey, I'm not asking you to be there for a birthday, or someone's first steps, or even an anniversary. It's just dinner. Something small."

"Jessie," even their dad's voice had grown softer. "If it's important to you, it's not small. All I said was, I don't know if I'll be able to make it tonight."

"And I'm telling you that I want you to make it a priority."

"It _is_ a priority, honey. I know this is important to you. I said I'll do my best, I'm just letting you know that I may not be there. I didn't say I wasn't going to try."

"Just do your best to be there, Sam. That's all I ask." There was another pause of silence between the two of them. "Don't laugh at me. You know I don't ask for much from you."

"I know, I know. I have to go, or I'll be late. Tell the boys I'll see them tonight. I'll call you at lunch, ok?" Rocky and Colt could hear the kiss that Sam had undoubtedly put on her cheek, just like he did every morning. "Have a great day, ok?"

"Ok. I love you."

"I love you, too." Sam's footsteps neared the front door. From their position, Rocky and Colt watched their father shake his head as came to the front door. A moment later he was out the door, and on his way to work.

"Boys," Jessica called, "come get your breakfast."

Colt didn't move. Rocky, surprisingly, didn't either.

"Think we should tell Tum?" Colt asked. When he didn't get an answer, he turned on the step to face his brother.

Leaning against the stairwell wall, Rocky had a curious look on his face. Eyebrows pulled together slightly, lips tightened, eyes slowly drifting one way and then back the other. Then looked Colt in the eye. "What do you think?"

Colt blinked. He was taken aback, but only for a second. Nothing ever knocked him off guard for long. But Rocky didn't always ask for his opinion on things. In fact, Colt never really thought it mattered what his opinions were on the didn't really matter what he thought. Rocky could take his thoughts into consideration, but it always ultimately ended up that he would stick to his own thoughts. His own plans. Things always worked out that way. Why should that change now? "Mom and dad arguing is nothing new."

"I know," Rocky agreed. "But this was just different."

 _Yeah._ It was sitting on the tip of Colt's tongue, and he still couldn't get himself to say it out loud.

Parents arguing just happened. It was a way of life. He, and his brothers had all witnessed it up close or far away. In fact, he was sure they all had asked them at once if their parents were going to get divorced. They had always been adamantly told in no uncertain terms were their parents going to get divorced. Still, Colt always had that lingering thought in the back of his mind.

One day, one fight would be _the fight_ and things would change. He knew Rocky felt that way; he would always do his best to be calm and cool just like everything else, but his over-attentiveness gave him away. Tum-Tum on the other hand just had a fearful look in his eyes whenever he would look at Rocky and Colt for answers. Normally, he just tried to stay as far away from it as possible. Maybe that was his giveaway. Their parents paid attention to their mannerisms enough to know when they weren't being themselves and would dedicate a family meeting - over dinner or calling everyone into the living room - to reassure them that while they weren't sure how much was heard, they recognized that it was, and that everything was OK.

But, as usual, Rocky was right. This fight felt different. He couldn't explain how, maybe it was just how much frustration was evident in their tones. Or maybe how personal the conversation got. Either way, it didn't sit well in Colt's stomach.

"Boys?"

Rocky instantly snapped to attention. "Coming, mom."

Lifting himself to his feet, Colt quickly jogged up the final two stairs, changed, let Tum-Tum know that breakfast was ready, and joined his brothers downstairs. The smell of bacon instantly socked him in the face, and he reached for the platter of bacon strips before asking for the pitcher of orange juice.

"Boys, I need you home right after school today, OK?" Jessica asked, helping herself to the steaming bowl of hash browns. "Jeffery, that means no loitering after practice."

"Is it OK if I don't shower?" Colt asked.

"Please do," Tum-Tum quipped. "You smell like sour cream after practice." Colt made a face at him.

"Just come home with me, Tum," Rocky said, his eyes trained on his mom. "What's this about, mom? Is everything ok?" Chewing on a particularly soft chunk of bacon, Colt curiously regarded his mom. She seemed just as chipper as she would on any other normal morning. It couldn't be therapy: she wasn't tense, tightly gripping a mug of coffee as if it was a lifeline. It wasn't about their grandpa either; she didn't look worried, or like her mind was elsewhere. His stomach eased a bit at that. A call any other day but Sunday would give anyone in the Douglas household some pause.

It was just jarring. Kind of like whenever their dad is able to show up at their school for functions and events. "What happened? Is something wrong?" is always on the tip of Colt's tongue the second he sees him.

"A new family moved into the house the Colburns used to own. They seem to have settled, finished unpacking, so we're going over tonight to welcome them to the neighborhood, have some dinner and dessert, that kind of thing."

Colt bit back a groan. How could he expect anything less? Everyone in the neighborhood knew that Jessica Douglas was the neighborhood's welcoming committee. It was almost like new families were warned about her, they would always know exactly who she was as soon as she set foot in their driveway. It wasn't that he didn't like meeting new people. It's just that, no one ever really talked to or hung out with their neighbors at all anymore.

The Douglases had moved away from whatever friends they had in their last two neighborhoods, and nowadays, save for passing pleasantries and hand waves, people generally kept to themselves. In fact, Emily, Jason, and Brett were the only ones they had kept up their friendships with. Tum-Tum went more of the route of he'd see his friends when he saw them, usually at school. Just like everything else in life, he rolled with the punches; he understood that everybody was busier nowadays.

Still, Colt surmised, this would no doubt just be another family that he'd force himself into a conversation with, and then barely ever, if at all, interact with again.

At least his grandpa was OK.

* * *

"Hey, Colt."

Colt spun around, looking over the heads of students to find who had called his name. He lifted his head upwards in a chin-nod and waved when he spotted Tum-Tum in the crowd.

"Hey, Tum," he replied.

It used to embarrass him that Tum-Tum would greet him every time they saw each other in the hallways. He had never done that with Rocky, but Tum-Tum had always been that way about his brothers. Openly proud. Bragging. Colt couldn't deny that there were some 'cool points' received when it was known you had an older sibling in school with you.

Stealth punches had usually been his go-to, just to see how annoyed Rocky would get. It was his way of acknowledging his brother's existence, while trying to keep away the inevitable comparisons he would get to his older brother. Still, Rocky would always stop by his table at lunch or by his locker to check in with him to see how his day was going. The least Colt could do was to pass on the favor, and do more, for when Tum-Tum joined them.

Tum-Tum motioned for his friends to go on without him before he started maneuvering his way through the students to reach his brother's side. "Looking for Jo?"

Colt's eyebrows shot upwards. "You've seen her?" he asked. She hadn't been in any of his morning classes. Not that that wasn't much of a stretch. With how many students attended their high school, he didn't think he had ever met everyone in his grade, let alone know their names. Heck, any of the kids that he just passed could have been Juniors, and he wouldn't know about it.

Tum-Tum gave Colt a wide, knowing smile. A smile Colt ignored, save for the narrowing of his own eyes. That only made Tum-Tum's smile widen. Still, he gave his brother some reprieve by continuing the conversation by saying, "She was in the front office last I saw." Reaching up his hands, he grasped the straps of his backpacks, which suddenly looked really tight on his wide shoulders.

"Thanks," Colt replied. Tum-Tum nodded, reaching around the side of his backpack for the mesh pocket, retrieving a packet of Peanut M&Ms. Using his teeth, he ripped open the packet and dumped a couple into his mouth before handing it to Colt. "Get all the junk food you can get in now, Tum. Once October hits, you're going to miss it."

"Always do," Tum-Tum said with a sad shake of his head. He then shrugged, his smile returning. "More chicken for me. I don't have a problem with that."

"I have a problem with how hangry you can get, but whatever," Colt said, dumping some of the candy into his hand before handing it back to Tum-Tum. "Thanks, dude."

"Tell her I said 'hi'," Tum-Tum said. He tilted his head to the side just slightly, and removed one backpack strap from his shoulder, just like how Colt was carrying his. Colt laughed to himself, sliding a few pieces of candy into his mouth. Chewing, he put his free hand on Tum-Tum's head and mussed his hair. "See you. I've got history, now."

"Have a nice nap," Colt said.

Tum-Tum shrugged for a second time, gave a simple, "I like school," and headed to his next class.

Colt liked school, too. For the most part. He liked learning more about the subject areas he was interested in, and creative projects were always the best kind to be assigned. It was just the fussing over his grades, and the watchful eyes on him and his brothers that bothered him. Who didn't get a couple of bad grades here and there? Whatever reputation he's had as "one of those ninja kids" wasn't always a good source of attention. Couple that with his past run ins with Darren and Darryl, it was no wonder people were always quick to think he was above it all or looking for trouble.

"Have fun, then." Tum-Tum lifted his hand in a wave, jogging after his friends and calling, "Max, wait up!"

Colt pushed open the school doors and stepped out into the mild summer air. Before he made it across the short walk way to reach the second wing of the school, and the Freshman-Sophomore locker areas, he heard his name called. Scanning the center square, he spotted Brett and changed his path over to him.

"Hey, B." Colt clapped Brett's palm before the two bumped fists. He grabbed a strawberry from the plastic container sitting in front of Brett, ignoring his friend's sound of protest. "I was just looking for Jo. Tum said she was in the front office."

Chewing around the strawberry in his mouth, Brett nodded. "Yeah, dude, I saw her taking a tour earlier," he said. "She stopped by the computer lab while I was on my free period." Colt rolled his eyes.

Of course Brett was in the computer lab. There was no one who knew any more about computers, and software, than him. He was the go-to guy for things as small as slow loading laptops, to knowing the perfect graphics card to buy, or which monitor was best when wanting to set up a gaming station. As such, Brett was a better gamer than Colt could ever imagine to be.

 _Maybe we should have asked him to help us with Snyder._ The thought suddenly slammed into Colt's head. Brett did know about what had happened with Colt's family in the past. He was bound to get more information from a deep dive of the internet than anything Rocky probably had already attempted himself. But it was an easy answer: none of the Douglases wanted to bring anyone closer to Snyder than necessary.

"She'll be in class with us this afternoon," Brett said after swallowing. "You know how long it takes to even get on the detention list here." He smirked at Colt who repeated his words in an obnoxious tone. Yes, he did know. What was it about it taking forever to get things done in the administrative offices? A call home took no time but registering for courses and figuring out schedules was practically a three-ring circus. "She's got Mr. Egan's sixth with us."

"Nice." Colt sat on top of the table Brett was sitting at. "First day, and she has to suffer through a science course with us." Sliding his backpack off his shoulder, he watched it topple over onto the table bench, and then land haphazardly on the grass. "Thanks for before. You know, handling Tum."

Brett pushed the container of strawberries closer to his friend. He rested his forearms on the table and lowered his phone. "You really think I'd trust anyone but Mikey with candy recommendations?" he asked. He and Colt laughed quietly. "No problem, man. As long as you have someone to talk to." He started spinning his phone in between his hands.

"Don't get all mushy on me now, dude," Colt said with a grin. Sticking his tongue out between his teeth, he pinched Brett's cheek, wiggling the pulled skin back and forth. "I didn't know you cared."

Brett slapped Colt's hand away from him before grabbing a strawberry and throwing it at him. He laughed when it bounced off of Colt's chest, his hand following it a split second later. "Looks like the ninja is getting rusty," he teased. "Was it your knees I heard creaking all the way over here, old man?"

Colt responded with an overexaggerated look of concern. "How are your wrists?" he asked. "No carpal tunnel? I mean, you spend _so much time_ on those computers of yours. Doing, oh, god knows what." Brett gave him a flat facial before giving him the finger. "Love you, too."

"What are you up to after practice?" Brett asked.

"Mom wants us home right after," Colt said, "she wants us all over to the new neighbors' house to play 'welcoming committee' with them." Brett made a face. "Yeah, I know. Otherwise, just homework. I'll try and get on Skype. But, dude, with Rock starting work again soon, I'll have to start taking Tum everywhere again."

"As if he wouldn't be following you around anyway," Brett said with a chuckle.

"True. I don't really have a problem with it, but it's partly why I'm going to see if I can get my own room."

"For real?" Brett asked, eyebrows shooting upwards.

"I think the last time I had my own room was right after I was born," Colt said with a snort. "Then I was sharing with Rock, and then Tum was sharing with both of us." He loved his brothers, he did. But it wasn't fair to think that the only time he would ever get a room to himself was if he requested a single room when applying to university housing. "I just need my own space."

And it was easier to get over anything that may be bothering him with absolute silence instead of having Tum-Tum constantly peppering him with "What's wrong?", "Are you sure you're ok?", "But, are you _sure_?" all the time. How many times had he been sent to his room for his anger or dismissive nature, only to get into even more trouble when lashing out at his brother when all he wanted was just five minutes to himself? Plus, he had seen the wide-eyed, hurt, and dare he say, scared look on Tum-Tum's face one time too many on the receiving end of a scathing "What?" or "Would you be quiet, please?" and the last thing he wanted to do was to scare his brother.

He could already hear the reprimand now: _Rock wouldn't_ _act that way._

So what? He wasn't Rocky, and he wasn't trying to be him, either. He was Colt and he expressed himself whenever he needed to, or whenever he just couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Go for it, dude," Brett said, waving his hand in the air. He quickly divided the rest of the strawberries between them and held his in his hand. "Take the initiative. Why not try?" Colt hummed his agreement, finishing off his strawberries.

Why not? Because taking the initiative was always Rocky's thing. A true leader he was examining the situation and how to best work his way out of it. Colt was always more of a charge into things kind of person.

"Oi! Head's up!"

Colt turned at the shout. For a moment, he didn't see anything that was wrong. Then he other students abandoning their spots on the grass, scattering as quickly as possible. Gazes of the other students were up in the air, slowly moving as they watched something fly by. Brett moved first, easily pulling himself from the table, eyes trained on what Colt now saw was a soccer ball. Colt backflipped off the table, landing beside his friend.

"Watch out!" Rocky, who had just stepped into the square with Jason and Emily flanking both of his sides, threw out his arms, stopping them from moving.

Colt and Brett moved quickly. Jumping over tables, sliding and rolling over the table tops, and leaping and spinning around other students to reach Rocky. Quickly stepping up on a table bench, onto the table top, Colt pressed his foot flat on the edge and propelled himself forward in a front flip. Landing in front of his brother, he took a step forward and leaned back slightly, opening his chest and allowing it to strike him. Bending forward, he guided the ball to his foot.

"B." Pointing his foot, Colt used the momentum of the fast-moving ball to do all of the work in a kick over to his friend. Brett bounced the ball off one knee, then the other, then he stepped on top of the ball to still it. "Nice."

"Nice pass," Brett replied, lobbing the ball back into the air over to Colt, who caught it in his outstretched hands. "You guys ok?" Colt turned back to Jason, Rocky, and Emily. Emily nodded, but Rocky stood rooted to the spot, lips pressed together, eyes fixated ahead of him.

"Rock." Jason waved a hand in front of Rocky's face. Still, he stayed frozen to the spot, almost swaying. He didn't even blink. "Hey, man. You ok?"

Colt put his hand on Rocky's shoulder, giving him a hard shove. Rocky instantly reacted. Blinking rapidly, he almost shuddered away from Colt's touch. Then a second later, he shoved Colt back, a scowl on his face. His cheeks were a bright red. "Back off, I'm fine," he muttered. He angled his head towards the two girls. "They need to be more careful." With that, he walked off. Shrugging, Jason followed him.

Making a sharp noise with his tongue, Colt spun the soccer ball in his hands before turning back to the two girls. With quick, easy strides, he closed the gap between them. He dropped the ball to his feet and easily kicked it over to them, clearing the rest of the gap. "Here," he said. He lifted his hand in a wave, turning to go, only stopping when he heard, "Nice legs" from behind him. He wasn't a stranger to compliments on his looks, or even his skills on the soccer field, but that was a new one. "Thanks?" he asked, turning back to face them.

He quickly noticed how similar they looked. Too similar. Identical twins. With identical laughs, and identical smirks. "It's a compliment, mate," the one two his right had said, her smirk getting wider. Blue eyes flashing in amusement. Her black hair was pulled down into two pigtails, secured with red bands. Even the ends of her hair, and some of her fringe was red.

The other, with a low side ponytail, not wearing red, but purple gave him a curious look. "Parkour?" she asked. Colt gave her a confused look. She tried again, waving her hand in the direction he had just come dive bombing in from. "Free running?"

"We've just messed around with it sometimes," Brett explained, quickly jumping into the conversation. "You know, watching some YouTube videos and tried to copy it."

"It's no big," Colt added with a shrug.

"Looks like it's helped, yeah?" the girl in red asked, eyebrows lifting. "That was some quick reflexes."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Brett asked.

"No. Just moved town." The girl in purple shook her head. "We're from Oz."

"With flying monkeys and all that?" Colt asked with a laugh. "Sad to say you won't get that much excitement around here."

Brett let out a scoff-laugh. "And he would know all about that. Colt elbowed him in the side."

"No," the girl in red said. She widened her eyes, looking over at her sister who twisted her mouth to the side in response. The girl in red chuckled, her lips curling almost mischievously in the corners. "But we do have kamikaze birds and drop bears. They attack you from the trees." Colt and Brett were silent, staring at her. "Seriously."

"Yeah, and you Americans thought it was all the poisonous creatures you had to worry about, hey." The girl in purple started juggling the soccer ball with her feet. Colt watched her, noticing the ease in which she was bouncing the ball from the bridges of her feet, to her knees, to her head, and even the in-step and Dang. He was almost impressed. Of course, he could do just as much. Maybe more. Maybe even with his eyes closed. "Silly blokes."

"Hey, uh, you can go into the office now." Jo stepped up to the group, a stack of papers clutched in her hands. She used her free hand to brush her hair back behind her ears, giving Brett and Colt a smile in greeting. She indicated the building with her thumb. "The principal said you'd be waiting in the office for him."

The girl in red shrugged her shoulders. "I may have a problem with following directions, yeah?" Her sister snorted. "Cheers." She started towards the building, her sister following her. "Jo, right?"

"Yeah. Jo."

"Cool. See you."

"Who was that?" Brett asked.

A frown came to Jo's face as she thought. "One of them - I think she said her name was Riley?" Jo said. "I don't remember which one, though." She then gave them both a smile. "And here I thought my first day back wouldn't be that exciting."

"Did you forget who you're friends with?" Colt asked with a half-smile. "My life is just full of excitement."

* * *

Snyder didn't looking up when the table seat creaked as Harding lowered his frame onto it. The chess pieces already lined up shook and settled into place. Still, Snyder meticulously, and carefully set the pieces up on the board.

"People are starting to talk," Harding barked in the wake of Snyder's silence.

"People talk." Snyder cleared his throat. Slowly, very slowly, he leaned forward before he set his elbows on the table. Lacing his fingers together, he set his chin on top of his hands. "You can't control that."

Harding shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking around at the other occupied tables around them. Most men were watching the tv, some played cards in groups, some just talking and laughing amongst themselves. Others were lounging in their cells. Glances were occasionally shot in their way, some were outright staring, but Snyder didn't pay them any attention. No questions were asked, so he didn't need to explain himself. Not that he ever would.

"I don't like it," Harding replied. "Starting to think something is going on here."

"Something _is_ going on here." Snyder continued to stare at Harding, a small smile coming to his face at the growing discomfort on Harding's. "A conversation. Relax." He used a hand to indicate the board game in front of them. "Let's play a game."

"Nah, nah, you don't tell me to do anything." Snyder slowly removed his fingers from the chess piece he had reached for. Placing his hand in his lap, he silently stared at Harding. Harding glared right back before he let out a heavy sigh, reaching for a pawn. "What is this about, Snyder?"

"You've been ignoring my messages," Snyder explained. "Here I thought we were having a great conversation, and you just cut me off."

"I didn't cut you off, I just stopped responding," Harding replied. "There's a difference. I don't waste my time in conversations that don't benefit me, you see. And us? This?" He waved a fat finger back and forth between the two of them. "Does not benefit me."

Snyder laughed a wheezing laugh. "We are more alike than you think," he said, gaze drifting back down to the chess board. "We both run successful businesses. As businessmen, we know how to get what we want. Right now, all I want is a conversation." He picked up a pawn and moved it forward two spaces, slamming it down onto the table. "And I don't like being made a fool of, Harding."

"Yeah, well, me neither." Point proven. "What do you take me for?"

"A chump."

" _What_?" Even over the constant wall of noise that was their inmate filled block, Harding's bark could be heard. The room grew silent, all eyes turned towards them. Snyder motioned for Harding to take his turn. Grumbling, Harding picked up his first pawn and slid it forward. "What do you mean? I am not a chump."

"I know why you're in here, Harding. Dumping toxic waste. Out in the open no less." Snyder made a tisking sound with his tongue, slowly shaking his head back and forth. "Your ego built you up, and it was your ego that took you down."

"No, it was those kids, those, those _brats_ that took me down." Harding jabbed his finger tip onto the table. Snyder smiled to himself. "Those stupid brats didn't know how to stay out of grown man's business."

"Surely you have to see that you made a mistake somewhere." Snyder scanned the board before moving his horse piece. He closed his eyes, letting out a cleansing breath. "No matter," he said, feeling himself relax. "I know how I would have done things better if I were given the opportunity to do so." Snyder looked Harding in the eye. "And that is something else we have in common. Everything planned out, down to the last punctuation mark. Then three little..." He almost couldn't get the word out, " _ninjas_ came and screwed it all up. Not the police. Not the FBI. Kids. Three little kids." He laughed "Sons of a Fed no less."

Harding let out a gruff noise of annoyance.

"What if I were to tell you, that those were the same three boys that felled my entire operation?"

Harding perked up. "Really?"

"Don't read the newspaper?"

"Not unless my face is in it."

"Believe me, I share the same sentiment." Snyder's smile grew. "There's a rush in knowing that the world is out looking for you and you're just one step ahead of them at all times."

"So what do you want? To just sit here and think back to the good old days?"

"Precisely." Harding crossed his arms over his chest. At Snyder's pointed stare, he uncrossed them and moved his chess piece. "In fact, I know exactly where I messed up. I assumed that those very same brats, could not have learned enough at their age. I assumed that they would be kids that would be easily snatched." He rolled his eyes. "And I believed that Brown could actually get something done for me."

In that moment, the bespectacled assistant of his was lucky to be housed in a separate wing of the prison. And that he didn't have a head protected. Otherwise he _would_ actually squeeze his head.

"Yes, yes. Two men building an empire only to have it knocked down by a bunch of kids who knew exactly which block to pull away."

"Do you always sound like a fortune cookie?"

Snyder's upper lip curled. "I always told myself that I would find a way to best FBI Agent Sam Douglas and his precious boys. And now, now I think I know how we can do it. Get our businesses back and reestablish what it is we've been trying to achieve."

"How?" Harding asked. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Oh, everything," Snyder replied. "Are you still in touch with JJ?"

"That idiot?" Harding snorted. "He sold me up the river before the cops could tighten those handcuffs around his wrists. Why would I still be talking to him?"

"Because we're going to need his help." Snyder was very careful. With starting to use the word "we", with "accidentally" allowing his anger to slip through, and with his chess strategy. "Check mate." Harding stared in disbelief at the board in front of him. Another loss for Harding. He definitely would want to prove himself now.

. . .

.

"Sam, you've been staring at that file for the last hour."

Sam pulled his gaze away from Hugo Snyder's name and leaned back in his seat. Using his feet, he twisted his swivel chair so he could see past his computer screen and over to his partner, Jerry.

"Have I?" he asked, dully.

"How have things been at home?" Jerry asked. Sam instantly zeroed in on how voice. Low. Full of concern. Careful. Sam swallowed. "I know how hard things are for you guys."

"It's fine." Sam nodded his head. "A little rough here and there, but we always get there."

"I know," Jerry explained. "And I'm glad you do."

"But?"

"If we don't have cases we're taking here, your mind isn't always here." Sam was silent. "Not around this time. Everyone gets it, no one blames you for it." Sam allowed a mirthless laugh to slip out. "I just worry about you, Sam."

Sam was just like any other agent at work. He left his family life, and anything on the outside world at the door. Sometimes, it even got as far as his locker, but that was it. It didn't bleed into work. Not until the day Hugo Snyder's file was thrown across his desk. He ensured his boss that any past run-ins he had with Snyder wasn't going to affect his work. Of anything, it just made him work harder.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said, pushing as much optimism as he could into his voice. "Snyder is behind bars, where he belongs. Just like he's been every year. Nothing's changed." He pulled himself out of his chair and made his way across the bullpen to the small kitchen area. He made quick work of starting a fresh pot of coffee.

"Come on, Sam," Jerry said, stepping up beside him. "I'm not just your partner, here. We're family. I know this hasn't been easy for all of you guys."

Sam let out an odd laugh. "Hasn't been easy." He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hugo Snyder was always easy to deal with because he was forgettable," he said. "And now, somehow, he's found a way to get into my head."

"Sam—"

"He's been stuck in my head and just when I think he's not there anymore…" He snapped his fingers, "He comes right back. Every year. Every damn year I can't help but think about him. And about what he did to my family." Jerry reached for the mug tree sitting beside the coffee maker and set two mugs on the counter. "What he did to get to me. There won't be a day where I won't think about him. Where I won't wonder what he'll do next. Where he'll be next. Who he'll go after next. Last time it was my father-in-law, and then my boys. He went after my boys because he saw them there. What will he do next? Go after Jessica?"

"I already promised that I would let you know if anything were to change," Jerry said. "Nothing's changed."

"I know, I know," Sam said. He reached for the steaming coffee pot and poured the two of them a decent amount. "And I can't thank you enough." He laughed tiredly. "In fact, it's impossible to thank you enough for everything you've done to help me out about this."

"I know this isn't the type of case you can just put off to the side," Jerry said. "Which is why I've been thinking."

"What?" Sam asked.

Jerry let out a long sigh. "I hate to say this," he said with an apologetic frown, "but, maybe we could see what it was he was planning on doing? Like, really planning?"

Sam stared at him. "He was going to shoot my family," he said. "You were there. He had a gun pulled on them."

His throat locked up and suddenly it was hard for him to swallow. If he hadn't gotten there in time… He couldn't bring himself to think about it. His nightmares had finished that thought for him enough times. Sam just couldn't believe his boys had bounced back so well. Nightmares had occurred of course. It was the subtle signs of clinginess that took a bit longer to notice. Rocky would make sure he said goodnight and gave his parents a hug before bed. Colt would park himself in front of the TV to keep an eye on the front door to be first to greet either himself or Jessica whenever they walked through the door. Tum-Tum would almost follow him from room to room just to make sure he was still there.

According to Jessica, none of them would ever truly relax until they were sure he had gotten home safely each night. Together, they agreed that therapy would be helpful for them. Despite all of that, after everything they had been through, they forged on. They continued to grow and develop, gain new interests, and more importantly, stuck together.

"No, no, I know that," Jerry said. "We got to that boat just in time. It's just that no one's spoken to him since he was sentenced, and even then, I don't think we ever got his full story. He doesn't want to talk to anyone. But I think if you were to-"

"No," Sam said flatly. He could easily see where this was going. "I'm not bringing my family back into this. I'm not going to use them as bait just to get him to talk."

"I didn't say that," Jerry said quietly. "I just think…well, you used to be friends with him—"

"He was _not_ my friend," Sam said. He shoved the coffee pot back into it's cradle. "He was _never_ my friend ok? He was just that guy everybody put up with. He was always hanging around, that's all."

"There are just as many pictures of you with him as your father-in-law in his file." Jerry took a couple steps back from his partner. "Look, Sam, all I'm saying is that if you want to know more about this, you're the one with the closest link to this case."

Sam tilted his head back and took a long sip. Didn't Jerry think he knew that? Everything came back to him somehow. The knot of guilt in his stomach tightened just a tad bit more every time he thought about it.

"Excuse me, mate, are you Sam?"

Setting down the mug in his hand, Sam turned around at the voice and faced a man with dark hair and blue eyes. Wearing an open button up shirt over a black t-shirt with an abstract wave design on the front, jeans with rips at the knees, and flip flops, it was clear that the man did not work there. Nor did he dress like any other person his age. The visitor's pass hung to the waistband of his jeans was another indicator.

"Your boss pointed you to me, yeah?" The man indicated the office on the second landing of the bullpen. Sam followed the man's point and watched his boss pace around his office, the phone to his ear. Once he caught Sam's eye, his boss indicated for them to come up. "I'm Reed Jackson."

"Agent Sam Douglas, nice to meet you," Sam said, reaching out his hand. "This is Agent Curl."

"Hey." Reed swung his hand into Sam's and gave it a quick, yet firm shake before he clapped him on the shoulder. "I was told you were the one who could help me. Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation about Hugo Snyder."

"Yeah, that's right," Jerry said. "How can we help?"

"Right. The thing is," Reed said, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, "I think I may have been involved with that."

* * *

 **A/N:** And here starts to show how Rocky and Tum-Tum are still being affected by the kidnapping. You'll see more of that as the chapters go on. I also have more "slice of life" and lighthearted things coming, as well as more scenes from other people's points of view which includes more from Snyder because I love writing villains of stories.

Thank you to _Ethan_ , _Lighter_ , _owlhero_ , and _JustADreamer24_ and everyone else for taking the time to read this.

 **-Rhuben**


	7. There Goes the Neighborhood

**Chapter 07**

Colt shoved Rocky away from him, removing a hand from his phone to massage the area on his neck his shirt collar had just decided to attack. Rocky rolled his eyes before indicating the fire hydrant they walked past with his chin.

"You could have just told me," Colt said.

"I did," Rocky replied, adjusting the case of soda under his arm, "you didn't hear me." He lifted an eyebrow. "Or you just didn't listen."

Colt made a face back at him before putting his attention back on his phone. Hearing his mom clear her throat, however, he quickly backed out of his apps and stored his phone into his pocket. Why did they even need to walk to the house, anyway? Normal people would drive over, especially if they were carrying food and drinks with them. If Colt knew one thing about his mom, it was that the community was important to her, and it was only polite to show up at someone's house with something in your hands.

Luckily for him, Tum-Tum was more than happy to carry all of the desserts, leaving him hands free. Being wrapped in aluminum foil, at least they would have a way to know if he tried to sneak a piece. Not that Colt could blame him. His mother's baking was something to look forward to. In fact, at this moment, his growling stomach could even go head to head with Tum-Tum's just at the thought of the apple pie he would be able to bite into in a couple hours or so.

"Is dad coming?" Colt asked, brushing his hair back from his face.

"He said he'll do his best to make it," Jessica replied. It was said in a light tone, but Colt could pick out the tension in her voice. Years of being on the receiving end of his dad's "work voice," made him somewhat of an expert on shifting vocal tones. In fact, Colt could quickly pinpoint that his mom's tone was the same one she used whenever she needed to relay less than stellar news to the boys.

Most often, in Colt's case, he heard it when discussing his fluctuating grades or yet another afternoon in detention. Not that he'd been in detention a lot lately. There was one bonus to keeping with his martial arts training, it grounded him, and the combination of quick strikes and jabs, and slower flowing moves gave him a channel for all of his excess energy.

Looking over at Rocky over the top of their mom's head, he found his brother staring back at him. For a brief moment, the two of them were on the same page: not even meeting a new family could squash whatever argument their parents were in. It seemed to be more common between them these days. And their mom loved meeting and talking to new people.

A moment later, Rocky broke eye contact with Colt, his jaw a tense line. Colt looked back over at Tum-Tum who was know whistling happily. _At least he didn't notice,_ Colt thought with a sigh. But how long could Tum really be kept in the dark, so to speak, about things? He had to grow up sooner or later, but how fast did he have to do that growing? Colt was 14 once. Thinking about the world outside of concerts his favorite bands were putting on, and what video games were being released, and hanging out with friends was just flat out boring.

"If we have to suffer through this, I only think it's fair he does too," Colt said.

"Dude, chill," Rocky said before their mom could say anything. "You don't even know what they're like, yet."

Colt just shrugged.

It was like being in school as far as he was concerned. God knows he needed to have a spiel with his name, the reason why he was called Colt, and a fun-fact about himself at the ready. Then after that, they would be in the agonizing moment where he and his brothers would be forced into small talk trying to find something, _anything_ , they all liked enough to bond over. Scratch that. It was worse than school. At least while in school you could bond over how much you didn't like a class, or a teacher, or another student.

"Still," he said.

"I wish you at least did something with your hair," Jessica commented.

"Mom, I'm not cutting my hair," Colt said, flatly.

"I have some new kids in my class," Tum-Tum said, changing the subject. "I wonder if that's who we're meeting. They're pretty cool. And they're really good at wall ball."

Colt laughed to himself. It used to be so easy to make friends when you were a kid. All you really had to do was like the same color. Although, in his case, someone needed to be inadvertently pulled into their ninja drama and they were bonded for life.

"Just be nice," Jessica reminded them. "We used to be new the area, too."

"Mom!" Colt said incredulously, "We've lived here all our lives!"

"Yes, but we've been new to two different neighborhoods," Jessica replied, making a face at his sudden rise in volume. "It's nice to have friends in the community. A sense of support."

"Geeze, mom, don't you know all our friends are online, now?" Tum-Tum asked.

Rocky started walking backwards in front of them. "You and dad did teach us about stranger danger," he said with a pointed smile. "We're just putting ourselves right in the path of some deranged mad man."

"You always could be doing that on your own, online," Jessica pointed out. "Which was why you're not allowed to have their phones in your room after hours." The boys all exchanged glances. "Despite that, I also taught you to give everyone a chance." Rocky pulled his smile to one side of his face. No one could disagree with that. They all knew that if anything were to go wrong, and this new family was sketch, her protective side would appear.

Jessica Douglas was sweet, but she was also a force to be reckoned with if the situation called for it.

Colt liked to think that's where he got his brazenness from. Only he showed it whenever he felt like it, and not on a situational basis. He was more like his dad in that way; a more powerful, and commanding force. Only people didn't really view him as the leader sort, just the charge in head first type. His confidence was something he was equally lauded for and cautioned against. If he wouldn't get a stern talking to about it later, he'd take charge in turning right around and going home.

It was too late now as Jessica started making her way up a decently sized driveway. If first impressions were so important, Colt wondered, why were they ruining theirs by showing up sweaty and smelly? Colt glanced over the big house, big garage with a one car parked behind the other in front of the doors, and big front lawn. And who exactly were they trying to impress?

"I don't remember the Colburn house being this big," Rocky said, his nose wrinkling.

"The new family extended and re-did a few things," Jessica replied. "All the work was completed a couple weeks before they moved in. They made the basement bigger, the kitchen, extended the deck, the garage, added a pool—"

"Dude, they have a pool?" Tum-Tum asked, his voice filled with longing. He stood on his tiptoes, swaying from side to side in an attempt to get a better view over the fence they were passing by to get a good look in the backyard. "I want a pool. Why don't we have a pool?"

"I already spent a lot of my time explaining to the doctors how you repeatedly got injured," Jessica said with a combination of a laugh and a sigh. "Do you really think I had enough time to make sure you didn't drown? Or try to drown each other?"

"Good point," Tum-Tum said with a small pout. Rocky and Colt laughed.

"Believe me, I share the sentiment." As the Douglas family turned in the direction of the voice, Colt spotted a dark-haired woman pulling herself to a stand from the porch swing in the corner of the wrap around porch. "But my kids didn't want to look at any house without one." The woman leaned against the porch railing. With one hand, she lifted a pair of large-framed glasses up to the top of her head, with the other, she used her thumb to mark her place in a book. "You must be Jessica."

"That's right." Jessica smiled at the "Jessica Douglas." "And these are my sons, Samuel, Jeffery, and Michael."

"Hi, I'm Rocky." Rocky lifted his free hand in a wave.

Colt nodded upwards. "Colt."

"My name's Tum-Tum," Tum-Tum said with a smile. "Oh." He thrusted the pies in his hands forwards, showing them off. "We brought some pies. Mom made them. They're really good."

"They look good too." The woman smiled. Colt blinked in surprise, before looking over at Rocky, who looked just as surprised as he did. The woman looked really familiar, though her Japanese features stood out more. Not as much as his grandfather's, but still recognizable. But there was no way they had met before. "I'm Renee Jackson. It's nice to meet you." And that sealed it. "My husband should be coming soon. I was just waiting for him."

"Oh, my husband was going to meet us here, too."

Renee's gaze shifted from the Douglases to behind them when a car horn sounded. "I believe that's them, now."

"We could have waited for dad to get home and driven over," Colt mumbled.

"Drop it," Rocky warned, watching as their dad's car followed a minivan up the driveway before coming to a stop. Jessica made a beeline for their dad's car, greeting him with a kiss through the rolled down driver's window. "Hi, dad." Sam lifted his hand in a wave.

"You're just in time," Renee said, greeting her own husband with a kiss. She leaned past the man in the front seat of the van and used her fist to give two short blasts of the horn before opening the door for him. Upon her husband stepping out of the van, pushing the door shut behind him, Renee framed his face with her hands. "I've been waiting all day to see this face."

"I missed you too, love." The man gave Renee a charming smile before lifting his hand to brush back his black hair. Colt clocked in on the man's accent. He was sure he had heard it somewhere before. The man clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Cheers, mate, for seeing me on such short notice."

"You're welcome," Sam replied. His words were almost drowned out by a loud slamming of the front door, followed by a loud, "Dad's home!" Footsteps thudded over the porch accompanied with "Hey, dad!", "How was work?", "How were the waves?", and "Wait for me!"

"Before we get mobbed," Renee said, "this is my husband, Reed Jackson. You've met Sam. But, this is Jessica, and their sons, Samuel, Jeffrey, and Michael." Renee's eyebrows pulled towards each other slightly. "Or, Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum you said?"

"That's right," Rocky agreed.

"Great to meet you." Reed shook everyone's hands, his eyes and grip staying on Colt a moment longer. "You said your name was Colt?"

"That's right."

Reed's smile widened slightly. "The guy with the nice legs?"

At Rocky and Tum-Tum's loud snorts and snickers, Colt felt his face suddenly heat up. "Um…" Colt scratched the back of his head. "I guess?"

"Don't listen to him, yeah?" Riley said, waving her hand in the air. Colt did a double take, eyes widening when he spotted her. "That's just dad trying to be embarrassing." She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. "Though, I'm not wrong;you do have nice legs." Then, she turned and gave her dad a bright smile, throwing her hands up into the air, offering a hug. "Hi, dad!"

"We met at school, didn't we?" Rocky asked. "Kind of?"

"I know I did," Tum-Tum said with a bright smile. He balanced the pies against his forearm, using his hand to perform a quick handshake with two of the three boys that grouped around Reed and Renee. "Dudes! I didn't know it was you guys we were meeting with today. That's awesome."

"Glad to know you've met already," Renee said with a relieved smile. "Kids this is Sam and Jessica and their sons Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum. This is Riley," she placed her hand on Riley's head, "her twin Rhuben," Rhuben gave a combination of the peace sign and a wave with her fingers, "And this is Patrick and his twin, Noah." Patrick and Noah looked just as identical as Riley and Rhuben did. Though Patrick opted to style his hair in a mohawk, while Noah opted for his to hand normally. Patrick smiled brightly, while Noah opted for a half smile. "And…" Renee twisted around when she couldn't find her youngest child and found him standing close to her, peeking out past his family. "And this is our youngest, Sydney."

"Our oldest, Julius, is back home in Australia for uni," Reed explained, "but he plans on coming out on break, so you'll be able to meet him at some point, too."

"Nice to meet you," Colt said along with his family.

"We don't have to stand out here, come in, come in," Renee said, beckoning everyone inside. "Kids, help them out, please? Sam, Jessica, would you like anything to drink?"

"Yes, make yourselves at home," Reed added. He slid open the side door of the van and reached for a business bag, pulling the strap over his shoulder. Colt thought it looked out of place compared to the t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops he was wearing. Especially compared to his own dad who still had on his own business attire. "Have anything you like."

"Come on, mate, we have the games we were telling you about," Patrick said to Tum-Tum, taking one of the pies from his hand. Noah grabbed the other. "Let's play."

"I'm down," Tum-Tum said with a shrug, following the two boys. Mouth twisted to the side, Sydney watched them go before silently following them.

"I'll get this for you, dad," Rhuben offered, reaching for the bag hanging off of Reed's shoulder. She looked over at the Douglases over her shoulder. "Anyone fancy a tour?"

"Sure," Rocky said. Rhuben opened her arm out for the case of soda he was carrying. "That's ok. I can get it. It's fine." Colt laughed quietly to himself. Did his brother really just roll his shoulders back? Hike up the box of soda like it weighed nothing? And people thought _he_ was really into girls. Not that he could blame his brother, his technique just needed some work. Talking always got the point across easier.

"And I'll get your board for you, too," Riley said, peering into the van. She walked around the back and popped open the trunk. Grabbing the handle of a long flat bag, she pulled it out and said, "You haven't answered the question: how were the waves?"

A sheepish look suddenly came to Reed's face when his wife turned towards him, lifting an eyebrow. "I might have given the staff an extended lunch break, and taken an extended lunch break and checked out the beach," he explained to her.

"You mean around the same time you were supposed to call me about tonight?"

Reed emphatically shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Mm-hmm. That's why you wanted the van today."

"Board wouldn't have fit in the other cars, Ren. Ow!" Reed grabbed his arm where Renee struck him with the side of her fist.

"You should have called. I could have met you there."

Reed gave his wife a smile and an "I'm sorry," before turning to Riley and saying with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, "thanks a lot, kid."

"Sorry," Riley said with a laugh pulling, what Colt now recognized to be a surfboard bag, onto her shoulder.

"Jeffery, why don't you help her?" Sam suggested.

"Appreciate it, mate, but I've got it," Riley replied. She nodded towards the car. "You can grab this tub, though."

"Sure, why not?" Colt said, wondering why he didn't jump at the opportunity to just take the tour. Between that and forced labor, how could he have ever picked between the two? Stepping over to the back of the van, Colt grabbed the only plastic tub that was sitting in the back of the van. He could see colorful towels, shoes, and shirts stacked inside the tub.

"Follow me."

"Like I have a choice," Colt said under his breath. Still, he followed Riley up the driveway and to the garage, waiting for her to punch in the code to the garage on the keypad. Once the garage doors lifted, Colt stayed in the doorway, looking around at the big space.

A pile of cleats sat outside storage containers of basketballs, soccer balls, roller blades, pads, and gloves along the left-most wall. Lacrosse sticks and baseball bats fit snugly. Helmets hung off of the handlebars of bikes that were lined up along the back wall in front of what looked like collapsed art easels. A couple guitar amps (which he spent some time looking over, finding no guitars in sight), and chords lay curled on the floor in front of a disassembled drum set and guitar stands sat in one corner. A rack to the far right held surfboards and skateboards above an old bookshelf lined with grass stained shoes, stacks of t-shirts, towels, and folded wetsuits. And it looked like there was still enough space to fit the all three cars inside.

Colt made a beeline for the bookshelf, adding his tub in the only space that it would fit – in between two other empty ones. "Why'd you move here?" he asked, brushing the non-existent dirt off his hands. If they were going to do the whole get-to-know-you spiel he might as well get it over with. Sure, he was being rude, but how else do you bring up the conversation instead of just going for it? Still, he decided to soften his words with, "I mean, California is pretty far away from Australia, right?"

"Depends on which direction around the world you fly, I reckon," Riley joked, lifting up onto her tip toes to slide the surfboard into the empty spot on the rack. "Dad's job mainly."

"Yeah," Colt said with a sigh, "I understand that." Who else would willingly move twice in less than two years?

"And mum was trying to get us away from some trouble." She gave him a curious look at the laugh that suddenly escaped from him. "What?

"Me and my brothers," Colt replied, "we know trouble."

"My brothers and I."

Colt sucked in a breath of air, rolling his eyes. Of course. Another person that could point out whenever he was wrong about something. And had no qualms about correcting him either. Just another reminder that he wasn't great like his brother. Who would want to be, anyway?

Riley crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what kind of trouble are we talking about, here?" She didn't hide the scan up and down his form. It wasn't like he hadn't done the same the second he had seen her at school, or again when she came flying out of the house with her brothers and sister. A first glance was normal. It was normal for him to quickly take stock of everyone in the area he was entering. With the second look, he had noticed how short she was compared to him, the jutting of her hip drew his eyes to the jeans shorts she was now wearing, and her bare legs and feet.

"If only you knew." He made a clicking sound with his tongue. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"It can't be that bad."

"Depends on how you look at it, maybe."

"Is that all I'm going to get?" Colt gave her a confused look. "You're not going to tell me what kind of trouble you've gotten into? You can't dangle a bloody carrot like that in front of my face and yank it away, mate."

"You haven't told me what kind of trouble you got in either."

"The kind of trouble you don't want you brothers to get into, but they wind up there anyway." She waved the topic away with her hand in the air. "How'd you get the name 'Colt' anyway?"

"Oh, it's my ninja name," Colt replied. "My grandpa gave it to me on my day of names." Riley's eyebrows lifted. "I practice martial arts."

"They give you nicknames in martial arts now?" she asked. "Wonder what mine would be." She said it more to herself than to him. "But, Colt. How'd he come up with that?"

"Well, I am pretty good," Colt replied. He couldn't stop the smile that came to his face. If it was one thing he could talk about, it was martial arts. "Fast, quick thinking to outsmart my opponents, all that kind of stuff. Never really lost a fight."

Riley laughed. "You're not modest, either."

Colt shrugged, leaning back against the shelving. "If you know you're good why hide it?" He snorted. "My brother would say it's being over-confident."

"The one I nearly blasted with the soccer ball or the one with the pies?" Riley asked. "Sorry about that, by the way." Uncrossing her arms, she shifted her weight to one hip and slid her hands into her back jeans pockets.

"That's ok. You thinking of joining the soccer team?

"My sister, maybe. I mean, I can play, but mainly for fun."

"And nothing's more fun than beaning people in the head with a soccer ball."

"You accepted my apology!"

"Only because I would have loved to see Rocky get a hit to the head. I think he needs it sometimes." Riley chuckled. "And you weren't aiming at me. And if you were, your aim was terrible."

"Not when it counts. I only play for fun, anyway."

"Games are fun."

" _Winning_ is fun," Riley corrected him. Colt didn't deny it. What was the point of putting your all into a game or event if you didn't come out on top? He downright hated to lose. "I have ran and played soccer for school, yeah, but surfing's more my thing. What about you?"

"Soccer and baseball. Soccer for school, baseball in the summer leagues. My dad's the coach."

Riley made a face. "Must be hard."

"Kind of. He knows what he's talking about. It's just when we're on the field, he's 'coach' not dad, so…" Plain and simple? It sucked.

"I get that. My mum is always on us about school and our homework. She's a teacher and I've had her for some of my classes." She smiled at the face Colt felt himself make. "It wasn't too bad. Only she never answered me whenever I called her 'Mrs. Jackson'. But, she did when I called her 'mum'."

"That's funny. Dad's always 'coach' whenever he's in baseball mode, though. Whether it's official team practices, or ones he has us do at home."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Yeah." Colt looked around the garage as silence fell over them. He nodded towards the other side of the garage. "D'you skateboard?"

"Helps with surfing. Balance, the flow, maneuverability and all that. And it's good for aerials. You?"

"Not as much as I used to. Took forever for me to land a pop shove it."

"I had to watch a lot of YouTube videos to get it myself."

"I thought you had a problem following directions." Though, if her dad was any indication, Colt thought, then he couldn't be too surprised. Colt blinked when Riley burst out laughing.

"Yeah, you've got it in one," she replied. "But you would know something about that, yeah? What with knowing so much about trouble."

"Something like that." Sarcasm coming to his words, he lifted a hand and wrapped his middle finger around his index finger. "We're like _this._ "

Despite the small smile on her face, Riley shook her head. "Heard some things about you at school."

"Oh yeah?" Colt tried to play off the question with nonchalance. It wasn't surprising that to hear. Still, a prat of him was curious to know what, exactly, was being said. Plus, he wasn't exactly sure whether or not she was flirting. "What kind of things?"

"Just things." The corners of Riley's lips lifted into a hint of a smile. "A lot of girls had something to say about you, especially."

"Ah." Colt slowly nodded, feeling his face heat up for a second time. He looked around, trying to find something else to talk about. It was almost funny. People used to say that he was scared of girls. Now, on occasion, people thought of him as some sort of player. It was like he said, if he was confident about something, why hide it? "Ok. So, you've asked about me at school?"

"No." Her response was so short, so simple, that Colt was almost whiplashed by the word. "People talk about you at school." Colt slowly nodded. "Hey, I'll make you a bet," Riley said, reaching for the skateboards. "See if I can embarrass you more today."

"Yeah, right. What's the bet?"

"See who lands a pop shove it, first." Riley reached for the rack of skateboards, picking one out and proceeding to stand on it. "Whoever loses has to sneak a piece of one of your mum's pies and give it to the winner."

"Ha!" Colt shook his head, but looked for a skateboard to choose nonetheless. "The real challenge would be figuring out how to get a piece of pie without Tum-Tum finding out." Though, it did sound interesting. Not only did they have to admit defeat, but they had to give up some great baking, too.

Colt set the skateboard on the smooth garage flooring and stepped on it, pushing off with his free foot before planting it on the deck of the board. Shifting his weight to his heels, he maneuvered himself out onto the driveway, ollying over the spot where the concrete and asphalt met. Bending his knees upon landing, he shifted his weight to his back foot and dragged the tail of the board along the ground to slow himself down.

Twisting his arms to the side, Colt followed the turn with his body and faced Riley. "You're on."

* * *

"My dad calls me Rocky, too,"

"Really?" Rocky's eyebrows slid towards each other as Rhuben set her dad's work bag down onto the landing of the stairs. "Why?"

Rhuben let out an odd, high-pitched laugh and stepped over to a closed door in the hallway. Swinging it open, she pointed inside. Rocky stepped into the bedroom and instantly understood. Apart from the posters on her walls featuring men and women frozen in the middle of powerful kicks to send a soccer ball flying through the air, or diving in front of a goal, their whole body stretched out to their full lengths, muscles taut with energy, her walls were filled with band posters, or art depicting staves and music notes.

"So, what's there to do around here?" Rhuben asked, dropping into the chair at her desk.

"My friends and I just hang around, usually." Rocky shrugged. He inwardly cringed. _He liked to hang out?_ What teen didn't? He realized with a start, outside of his studies, work, and the time he could hang out with his friends, he didn't have a lot going on in his life. Maybe to the happiness of his parents – more so his dad. I mean, he had just started really hanging out with Emily again. Not under the best circumstances, but it was a nice change.

"There's the beach, obviously. Some great food places around here. We usually hang out at this one pizza shop I work at. There are some parks, and museums if you're into that. Mega Mountain's not that far away. It's an amusement park-" A loud whooping cheer was heard from down the hall. Tum-Tum. Rocky stopped short, feeling his face heat up.

Then another scream. High-pitched. But of excitement or terror? The crushing feeling of crowds pressed in around him. Tighter. The smell of popcorn rushed past him. He couldn't savor in the smell as something wet, and dark quickly followed. He could almost feel the moisture. Hear creaking and the gentle lap of water. The scream sounded again, almost like a wail, extending into one long whine, it's pitch dropping. A horn. Then it suddenly stopped. A loud echo around the space. A gunshot.

Rocky sucked in a deep breath of air, staving off a shudder as best as he could. Looking over at Rhuben, he found her staring back at her, eyebrows lifted in a way that told him she was paying attention to what he was saying, and that she noticed the way he broke off his sentence.

He had mentioned Mega Mountain. Not that it was that big of a deal, it was normal for visitors to know what kind of attractions the city had going on. Usually when he mentioned the amusement park, that was it. People knew who he was. The squints and "Have we met before?" make a whole lot more sense once they put two and two together. That he was one of the 3 Ninjas. Once they found that out, they realized that, yes, he was the same guy who thwarted a robbery based off legend in Japan, and yes, he had been one of the "Kidnapped Kids." And once they found _that_ out, people stopped being normal with him. More so, they started asking a lot of questions. Questions he didn't want answered. Questions that would bring Emily back into the thick of it.

As much as he was waiting for the "Oh! I thought I recognized you," from Rhuben, he was also surprised (and relieved?) when she didn't react that way. Instead, he got a look of concern and a, "You all right, mate? Got quiet on me."

"Um, yeah, I'm ok. Sorry. Mega Mountain's pretty cool." He swallowed thickly and forced a smile. "I just haven't been there in a while so, uh, I don't know what kind of rides they still have or anything like that."

"That's ok. It's probably the same with Luna Park, anyway."

"Um, what kind of stuff do you like to do?" Rocky asked, scratching the back of his head. He cleared his throat. "Maybe it'll help come up with ideas." He indicated the room with a wave of his hand. "Besides, soccer, and music I guess."

"I like being outside; the beach, a park, the lake, I enjoy it all," Rhuben explained. Rocky slowly nodded, listening carefully, thinking about what activity to suggest to her. "I play soccer, I roller blade, I wakeboard, I surf - but Riles is better at it than I am. I'm into photography – real amateur stuff, though, like just pointing and shooting, playing with light sources. Um, I dance, I've done gymnastics." She shrugged. "Mum and dad let us try a lot of things until something stuck."

"Did you take these?" Rocky asked, indicating the pictures pinned above her desk with a nod of her head. They were all either pictures of her friends and family, or of parks, beaches, and cityscapes. He got up from his seat and moved closer to get a better look. "They're pretty good."

"Ah, cheers. They're ok," Rhuben said, her upper lip curling slightly. She bobbed her head back and forth. "Anything I _really_ like, I usually put up on my Insta." Rocky's eyebrows lifted. "Here, you can follow me." She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and opened her app before turning it around to face him. "I have two; one for my pics and one for myself."

"Thanks." Rocky took her phone from her and, squinting slightly at the screen, used his thumb to follow both of her profiles. His feed was instantly filled with picture after picture of beaches, sunny skies, and selfies (and group shots – mainly of her family) and the occasional food or pet photo. Admittedly, it was a nice change from the pictures of locations he recognized around the city, especially any pictures taken at school. "I kind of prefer black and white, actually. Pictures, I mean. Not that yours aren't good."

"No worries," Rhuben said, waving her hand in the air. "Why though?"

"I don't know," Rocky replied. "They just seem classy? I guess?"

Pulling down the corners of her lips, Rhuben shrugged, looking him over. "You seem like a classic guy. All-American and all that, yeah? The kind that prefers white fairy lights over colored ones."

"Fairy lights?" Rocky repeated.

"Usually hung up around the time Santa comes."

"Oh, Christmas lights." Rocky scratched at the back of his head. All-American? Maybe. If that meant doing exactly as he was told, exactly was expected of him, reliable, and the one people turned to whenever a situation called for someone in charge, then, yeah, sure. That was him. Samuel Douglas Jr; classy guy. Big brother. A great student. Always thinking of others.

"You've been doing martial arts for a while?" Rocky gave her an odd look before noticing that Rhuben was slowly rolling her thumb over her phone. Looking through his own social media profiles. She confirmed it with a light, "You mentioned it in your bio," without looking up from her phone.

"Since I could walk, basically. Yeah." Rocky gave a modest shrug, waiting for an inevitable, "That's so cool! Can you show me something?"

Which, yeah, he could. But, compared to what others thought, he wasn't a trained seal who could show off on command. The martial arts were cool, but it wasn't as flashy as the movies made it out to be. It took a lot of energy. Both physically and mentally. He studied to learn how to defend himself and to de-escalate confrontations if it ever really got to that point. A point that Colt and Tum-Tum didn't like so often as they got older, wondering why he always had to butt in. He quickly learned that it was easier to let them get their frustrations out by beating up on each other. It also meant he would be the one to tell their parents what actually happened when the blame needed to lie somewhere.

"That's cool."

"I know some gymnastics, too," Rocky offered. "Or, tumbling, I guess. Enough just to get me around: kip ups, and handsprings and stuff like that. Nothing I've ever really kept up with, you know? Just what my grandpa taught me." He was silent for a moment before adding, "Colt and Tum know some, too. They're really good," only he wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe he was thinking he sounded too braggy. He almost laughed out loud. He was so used to all of the attention on him, he was now trying to push it away.

 _Whoa, calm down._ Rocky slowly let a breath of air out through his nose, trying to allow the sudden spike of annoyance that hit him. He didn't even know where it had come from. So Colt had a better sense of his body and movements, so what? He had a better sense of clarity and mindfulness. He almost scoffed. _Sure, you do._ Despite the abruptness, at least Colt knew how to speak his mind. Rocky usually took the route of keeping quiet to spare any drawn-out confrontation.

As a result, he was more like a tea kettle: quietly bubbling underneath until he was steamed up enough to let it out. Like the fact that he had waited so long for his day of names. He had put in so much hard work (so much _extra_ hard work) and studied every aspect of what it meant to be a ninja only to have to share the day with his brothers. Just like everything else.

"I can show you some things if you'd like, mate. We have plenty of room in the back yard."

"Uhhh."

"What? You don't trust me?" Rhuben gave a small smile. "Reckon it wouldn't be a good look if I were to drop you on your head, yeah?"

Maybe a good drop on his head was what he needed. Maybe it'd shake away some of the staleness. Truthfully, she had hit the nail on the head. After everything that's happened, while he's met and made some friends, it was harder for him to trust people right off the bat. It was probably time to start doing so. After all, in a few short months, he'd be stuck in a school with strangers.

 _But you're still on your own,_ he reasoned with himself. _No one else_ _decides your grades, but you._ Rocky shook his head. His dad was getting to him again; reminding him of the importance of grade. Looking around Rhuben's room, he recognized the stack of test prep books and university brochures and it reminded him of just how much he had to look forward to in the year. Well, it was important to socialize and to have fun, too.

"Sure. Sounds good."

* * *

"So how did you two meet?"

"We met at college."

Tum-Tum noticed Rocky and Colt steeling themselves for another round of the story of how their parents' met. They had heard it a lot of over the years, but he didn't mind listening to it again and again. It was a nice reminder that they weren't always arguing with each other. One the other hand, he just wanted to get through the meal so he could get back to video games.

Besides, he was winning.

Rocky wasn't too into video games, occasionally joining Colt and Tum-Tum when his nights were free of homework and hanging out with friends. But he was a skilled player. It had to be all of the years on Earth before Tum-Tum had come around. Rocky knew all of the combos in many games to get the upper hand. Annoyingly enough, he wasn't even smug about it.

Colt on the other hand, just did what he did best; charged through ever game he played. It didn't matter if he caused his character to lose combos or drive over banana peels. Everybody else could make their own mistakes and be their own undoing just as long as he came out on top in the end. And he made sure everybody knew he was the winner. That he was the best.

All in all, the were great opponents to grow up with. Tum-Tum learned from the best, and finally, it was paying off. He was doing it on his own with no assists or being piggybacked along.

As if he could really pay attention for long with his stomach grumbling with the smells coming up from the kitchen. Even Rocky had a hard time pulling himself away from practicing backflips in the backyard to come inside. Once hearing the final call from their dad, and the game was paused and he practically fell down the stairs in a rush to get to the table on time – the Douglases on one side, the Jacksons on the other, both fathers at the ends.

For as well as they all seemed to be getting along, the parents were really the only ones who were talking.

"I was working on campus as a junior member of the security team and she needed and escort back to her building," Sam explained, carefully ripping a strip of cheesy garlic bread. "We just started talking and it went on from there." Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum secretly mouthed the words along with their father. Rocky did it with his head bent towards his plate, focused on his food; Colt in a mocking, exaggerated way with a roll of his eyes; Tum-Tum with a smile. Sydney laughed around his bite of hamburger.

"Aw, that's sweet," Renee said with a smile. "Jack and I met on campus, too. It was kind of a passing meeting though."

"Oh, please," Patrick said with a snort. He set down his glass of soda. "First, they met in the library like you lot. Only mum was there to study, and dad was there to hang out with his friends. And being loud."

"Mum kind of told them off, and dad told her to lighten up and that he was just looking for his friends," Noah added. As he popped a French fry into his mouth, Tum-Tum looked over at the twins. He quickly learned that Patrick was more outgoing of the two, but Noah did have his quips and witty comments after the awkwardness had died down. "Only he kind of ditched them to keep talking to her after they showed up."

"Then she found out he was working in the lab, and then he needed an assistant on a project he was working on," Riley said, picking up the story. Or was it, Rhuben? He couldn't really tell. "Mum wanted to apply, and so did a lot of other girls."

"And there was no way mum was going to let dad forget about her, or to let any other girl work with him yeah?" Rhuben said – well, he thought it was Rhuben – rocking back in her chair. Renee, chuckling, still struck her daughter with a pointed look and she immediately stopped leaning back in her chair. "Nearly swept the entire school talking to anyone that might have had some information on him."

"Because she only knew what his name was and that they shared a class. Wanted to give him her number so badly, she made sure no other girl had the chance." Sydney spoke with such a wide smile, that dimples appeared in his cheeks. He was the only one in the family, Tum-Tum noticed, that had dimples. "May as well have gone as far as bloody tattooing it on his arm, dad's not one to really remember to carry stuff around with him. Especially not a piece of paper with a number on it."

"You act like I threatened the girls," Renee said, putting a hand over her heart, eyes widening. A confident smile came to her face and she said sweetly, "I just made it very clear that I was taking a shot and they needed to back off."

"And there was nothing more attractive to me." Reed leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. "She's been keeping me organized ever since."

"If it wasn't my parents, it'd be pretty gross how sappy that is," Patrick said to Tum-Tum, removing the top bun of his burger. He started stacking French fries onto the cheesy burger.

"Join the club," Colt mumbled, earning an elbow to the side from Rocky.

Tum-Tum settled back in his seat and let out a yawn, a wave of exhaustion suddenly coming over him. Food used to be a great source of energy for him, too. He grabbed his glass of soda and quickly downed the rest of it before reaching for the two-liter bottle in front of him.

"Tired?" Noah asked.

"Couldn't really sleep." Tum-Tum blinked hard a few times.

"I know a good way to wake up," Sydney said. He leaned forward over his plate. "Mum, can we go swimming?"

Tum-Tum gasped in delight, craning his neck to peer out of the back door at the glistening pool. "Yeah, can we?"

"Oh, honey," Jessica said with a frown, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"If that's not a sign they're tired of sitting here, I don't know what is," Renee said to Reed, Jessica, and Sam. "It's alright with us. It only takes a few minutes to heat the pool, and we've got an outdoor shower, plenty of swimsuits and towels. It's fine with us."

"You'll actually have a harder time trying to change their minds, yeah?" Reed said. "Our kids love the water." He looked over at Sam. "Besides, it'll give us some time to talk more before the night's over."

"Please, dad?" Tum-Tum asked. Now was his time to shine. He wasn't the baby of the family for nothing. Tum-Tum widened his eyes and pulled the corners of his lips downwards. With a drop of his shoulders, and a slow scraping of his fork through what was left of his coleslaw, he had the dejected look down pat. BUt that was him; it was his role in the family as the baby. He was recognized as the adorable one who could get anything he wanted. And nothing more. Unfortunately. "Please?"

"We promise we'll wait the customary day before jumping into the pool," Colt said sarcastically, wadding his napkin up into a ball. Jessica and Sam exchanged glances. "Come on, mom."

"You realize if you don't, you're just going to hear them complain about it for a while," Rocky commented.

"If it's all right with you," Jessica said to Reed and Renee. She barely got the words out of her mouth when chairs were being pushed back and cheers hit the air.

"Rock, you coming?" Tum-Tum asked, grabbing a handful of his leftover French fries to take with him. Rocky was the only one who hadn't jumped up from the table.

"I'll be out in a bit," he said. "I want to finish my plate first." Colt rolled his eyes, muttering an "Oh come on," under his breath. Rocky ignored him. "Dinner is really delicious. Thank you for having us over, your home is really beautiful."

"Thank you, Rocky," Renee said with an appreciative smile. "But, don't feel like you have to stick around. You can go, too."

Rocky smiled his thanks, pushing his chair back. As he turned around to face the group, Tum-Tum was sure he saw relief cross his older brother's face. Of course he would, he got through one dinner without any mention of school or college plans. As if the usual, "What's the area like?" conversations weren't boring enough already.

"Show the boys where everything is, ok?" Riley said to her brothers. "We'll get the toys and start heating the pool."

"Come on!" Sydney led the charge up the stairs to the second floor. He had been so quiet upon initial meeting, just following his brothers around. Sydney didn't seem that receptive to Tum-Tum until he had noticed that Sydney was just watching the games go on, and invited him to join in.

Not unlike what Tum-Tum did when he was younger, always wanting to hang out with Rocky and Colt and doing whatever it was they were doing. He still didn't like being left out now, even though they were all in different circles at school. It was weird to think about what it would be like when Rocky was off to college, so he didn't do it that often. It had always been the three of them. Why would he want it to change now?

A dip in the pool was a great way to wake someone up but between races from one side of the pool to another, a canon ball contest, and seeing who could hold their breath underwater the longest, Tum knew he was going to have a good night's sleep that night. Better than he had over the past couple of nights.

Tum-Tum pulled himself up onto the side of the pool and let out a sigh as he sat down. "Hey," he called, brushing his weight hair back from his face. A small breeze blew past him, cooling the water on his body and he shivered. Hunching over, he rest his arms on his legs, trying to protect himself from the night air. "Uh, where's your bathroom?"

"Go in through this door," Noah pointed towards the house from the tangle of pool noodles he was floating on, "and there's a bathroom by the stairs, just past the den. Don't worry about dripping water, yeah?"

"Wait up," Rocky said, turning away from the game of water basketball that he, Colt, Riley, and Patrick were playing. Rhuben and Sydney were diving for rings in the deeper end of the pool. Tum-Tum had been one of the first ones into the pool. Partially due to excitement, and partially just to get over that slight anxiety of being seen in a bathing suit in front of new people. It was almost like the stomach clenching anxiety the first time he realized girls in his class started wearing bikinis to pool parties. He wasn't stupid; he had looked at Riley and Rhuben here and there, but tried not to be too obvious about it. He was sure his brothers had been doing the same, too. And maybe they were getting looks back. They were only human. With a few quick strokes, Rocky reached the edge of the pool and easily lifted himself out with a splash of water. He grabbed Tum-Tum's shoulders and guided him towards their belongings. "Get your towel."

Tum-Tum did as he was told and quickly dried off as best as he could. He reached for his phone sitting on a pool chair and quickly scrolled through his notifications before bringing up his camera. Sticking out his tongue, he made a face into the lens. Rocky popped up over his shoulder and puffed out his cheeks, crossing his eyes as he did so. Tum-Tum beamed as he quickly typed out a message to add to the post and uploaded it to his social media pages. He couldn't always get his big brother to join him on something as small as taking stupid pictures of his Twitter or Instagram pages, schoolwork and getting into college was very important after all, but it was always cool whenever he did.

Wrapping his towel around his shoulders, and gripping his phone tightly in his hand, Tum-Tum followed Rocky into the house. "I think he said it was this way," Rocky said to Tum-Tum as they stepped through the house.

"If we can't find it, I know where it is upstairs," Tum-Tum reassured his brother. They passed the living room and the kitchen, heading closer towards the front of the home. Making a turn past the main stairs, they continued in search of the bathroom. "Oh, here it is."

"Sssh!" Rocky flung out his arm, and grabbed a hold of Tum-Tum's towel, stopping him.

"What?"

"Sssh!"

"I just never had the chance to really apologize to you about all of this." Tum-Tum looked around for the source of Reed's voice. Putting a finger to his lips, Rocky slowly stepped over the flooring. Tum-Tum followed behind him and they came upon a closed door to what Tum-Tum could only assume was an office. "I had no idea the extent of everything that happened. I feel responsible."

"Snyder will do anything and everything he can in his power to get what he wants," Jessica replied. "Whether he tells you everything he's doing or not. Honestly, we're the ones who should be apologizing to you."

"Look, it stands to reason that we all have some sort of hand in this," Renee said, "so we shouldn't be blaming each other, least of all ourselves."

"I agree." Sam's strong voice spoke over all of them. "Let's just keep calm and see what other information I can come up with. In the meantime, Reed, if you can think of anything else, please, don't hesitate to tell me." Rocky's eyebrows lowered as he looked questioningly over at Tum-Tum who shrugged his shoulders in response. "And until we can talk to Mori about all of this, I think it's best we don't let the kids know."

"Of course," Renee said.

"Don't worry about a thing, mate."

"Sam, you know how the boys are," Jessica said quietly. "They're getting older. I think they could handle this."

"Yes, Jessica, I know, and I agree with you. I just think for the time being, until we have more answers, that we just wait for things to cool down a little. Besides, we're going to see your dad soon, Jessie, it won't be long."

As the conversation switched to something about an event in town, Tum-Tum removed his ear from the door. "Hey, Rock?" he whispered, looking up at his brother. Rocky made a humming sound as he stepped away from the door. "I don't think we were supposed to hear that."

Face set, Rocky pushed Tum-Tum towards the bathroom door.

* * *

 **A/N:** Again, apologies for how long it took to update this. We'll see more from Snyder from here on out. Not to mention we'll start getting into the action-y stuff for this fic in the next couple of chapters. And we've got something from Tum-Tum's point of view. You'll be seeing more from him and Rocky and a few more points of view besides Colt's in this story.

Thanks to everyone whose taken the time to check out this story.

-Rhuben


	8. Step Lightly

**Chapter 08**

"Morning, Colt."

 _Is it?_ Colt turned the lock of his car door . "How is it possible," he asked, turning to press his shoulder against his car door, acknowledging Emily, "that you are always so perky in the morning?"

Smiling, Emily shrugged her shoulders, hands clasping the straps to her backpack. "It's a gift," she replied.

"Rocky's not here yet," Colt said as Tum-Tum rounded the car, beaming at Emily. Emily lifted her hand in a wave in response before giving him a hug. "Jason's car conked out again and he stopped to pick him up."

"What's gotten you so cranky this morning?" Emily asked. Colt rolled his eyes at Tum-Tum's response of, "Life makes him cranky," accompanied by a cheeky smile. Emily chuckled. "I came to talk to you two, actually."

Colt's eyebrows furrowed. He looked around the parking lot, checking to see if any students milling around in the parking lot, or entrance to the school would be come anywhere near them. "You found something out?" he asked. Tum-Tum suddenly looked serious, a frown coming to his face.

Nodding, Emily said, "Let's not talk about it here. Meet me at lunch, ok?"

A smart quip was poised on the tip of his tongue ("We always eat together"), but Colt held it back. It wasn't until recently that they had even started really hanging around each other again. There was something about the way Emily suddenly looked anxious that squashed any normal response he would have to her. Or anyone, for that matter. And, he had to remember, that Emily was doing them a solid by helping them out. He wasn't exactly being sensitive when asking her to look into a moment in her life that was just as traumatic for her as it was for him and his brothers. Maybe even more.

In fact, he realized with a sudden pain of guilt in his stomach, he never really had asked her just how much that night had affected her. He knew that therapy and nightmares were common occurrences, only he knew that through Rocky bringing it up whenever their parents had asked how she was doing. Not once did he ever ask himself. Sure, she wasn't around the family that much, and she and Rocky did kind of grow apart from each other, but they were still friends. What kind of friend didn't check in every once in a while? Or at all?

"Hey, Emily?" Emily's eyebrows lifted and Colt shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Um, I'm sorry if this was hard for you to do."

"Yeah, me too," Tum-Tum said, closing one eye against the sun. "Sorry."

"It is hard," Emily agreed with a sigh, "but you guys deserve to get to the bottom of this." She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder, biting down on her lower lip. She cleared her throat, her bright disposition suddenly returning. "Listen, I have to stop by journalism before first period. If you see Rocky before I do," again Colt stopped himself from uttering a snarky comment (it looked like Tum-Tum was doing the same as he was suddenly interested in the straps hanging off of his backpack, "let him know what I said, ok?"

"You got it."

Emily gave a smile of thanks, quickly scanning the parking lot. Colt and Tum-Tum shared a tight-lipped smile behind her back before plastering on genuine ones when she turned back to face them. "I'll see you later," she said, giving a finger wave. "Lunch, remember?"

"Who could forget lunch?" Tum-Tum asked with a snort. "It's one of the most important meals of the day."

"Every meal is important to you, Tum." Colt put a hand over Tum-Tum's face, pushing him away. Tum-Tum slapped at Colt's arm, landing a few hits on his elbow, shoulder, and side. Colt laughed and shoved him back. Tum-Tum ducked his head and drove forward into Colt's stomach, wrapping his arms around his knee. Hopping on one foot to keep his balance, Colt bid a farewell to Emily with, "See you, Em," before putting his attention back on Tum-Tum.

Chuckling through her nose, Emily rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Boys," she said under her breath, albeit with a smile.

"Get off," Colt said to his brother, leaning against another car for balance. Pretty soon, Tum-Tum would have him upside down by one leg.

Ok, maybe not.

Tum-Tum wasn't _that_ strong, but he knew how to maneuver himself and others without breaking a sweat. Anyone could say it was due to his wrestling, but Colt chalked it up to the fact that both he and Rocky were his brothers. How often had they threatened him by sitting on him or tackling him when he threatened to call their mom in retaliation for things not going the way he wanted them to. All that time squirming out of a hold was bound to help him out sometime.

"You started it." Tum-Tum craned his neck to look up at his brother, eyes flashing mischievously. "You don't want to be shown up by your brother again, do you?"

"Shown up!" Colt scoffed. Pressing his lips together, he looped his arms through his brother's and pried him off of his leg. "Your beating me last time was a fluke. I let you win."

"Ha!" Tum-Tum exaggeratedly stuck his nose in the air. "You don't let anyone win. Ever. You just can't take the fact that I beat you." He grinned in triumph, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's about time, anyway. You may be all flash, but that's not always the best way to fight."

"Sure it is. Take people out before they can take you out. Best way to fight."

"Grandpa wouldn't say so," Tum-Tum said with a cheeky smile. "Don't be over-confident, _re-mem-ber_?"

"Yes, I _re-mem-ber_ ," Colt replied, mimicking Tum-Tum's tone. "And I'm not being over-confident. The facts show every fight I'm in, I win." He lifted a finger when Tum-Tum opened his mouth. "Except for one. I can admit that. Miyo was a great opponent."

"Because Miyo actually knows how to fight," Tum-Tum laughed. "She was trained by some of the best people in Japan. The birthplace of all things ninja." Colt twisted his mouth to the side. "It's no wonder she kicked your butt."

"Nobody's better than grandpa, ok?" Colt said flatly.

"Sure," Tum-Tum agreed. "But he's kicked our butts, too."

"Yeah, but he's grandpa." Tum-Tum shrugged. "Oh my god, Tum, get away from me."

Tum-Tum gave Colt a toothy grin. It was the same smile their mom always said she hated to look at. That smile that knew he was getting under people's skin, but he didn't care because he was having a good time. Even as he got older, there was something about Tum-Tum that made it so hard to stay mad or annoyed with him. Even Colt's anger or annoyance with him could ebb and flow just based on that one smile.

"So tell me this," Colt said, reaching into the bed of his truck, removing his backpack and soccer bag. "Are you still talking with Amy? You were on your phone pretty late last night."

"Uhhhh." Tum-Tum's eyes suddenly went wide. "Yeah. Yeah, we're still talking." He suddenly glanced over his shoulder before facing forward again. "Things are fine. Good."

"That's good."

"Yeah, um, we've been talking about the new kids. The Jacksons." Tum-Tum said, swinging the compression straps on his backpack in a figure eight. He twisted his mouth to the side. "They're cool."

"Kind of flashy, but whatever."

"If you say so. But you weren't exactly being dragged into the pool."

"Good point. When'd you get so smart?"

Tum-Tum snorted when Colt steered him towards the school building. "You're the spaz, remember?" He stuck his tongue out at Colt in response to the gentle tap (at least that's how Colt would explain it if he was tattled on), to the back of his head. "But, yeah, so, um, the new kids are better than talking about homework, I guess."

Colt's eyebrows furrowed at his brother's sudden…weirdness. Tum-Tum was never really the shy one. Maybe hanging out with Rocky and Colt gave him the bravado to insert himself into any situation or conversation. Even talking about girls usually was something he had no issue bringing up, looking for approval or advice.

"Eh, any excuse to talk to someone, I suppose. I've covered some dull topics. Believe me, when it comes to Amy, just be yourself. Don't pretend to be into something if you're not."

"Hmm." Tum-Tum twisted his mouth to the side. "Well, she really likes horses. And because of Jo I've been around horses enough times." He shrugged. "That's something in common. Kind of." He sighed. "Does this talking to girls thing get easier? You talk to a lot of girls."

"I don't talk to a lot of girls," Colt quickly corrected him. Tum-Tum hummed. "And, yes, it does get easier; once you stop thinking that Amy is so different from you. You've been in the same class since you started school. You've been friends for years."

"So you weren't nervous at all when you started liking Jo?" Tum-Tum asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Or when you gave her that Malibu Ninja?"

"No."

"How come?"

"We had already been through sanitary workers, being chased by a blood thirsty dog, and climbing through a sewer line that had exploded," Colt replied. "If I could face that, I could face a girl. And you've been through your fair share of things."

In all honesty, he was surprised that he hadn't been more nervous about speaking with Jo. Things had moved quickly upon their first meeting. One minute he was cleaning a pizza parlor (one that Rocky would eventually end up working at), and the next he was sneaking into the back of a truck trying to solve what their parents called a "real world problem" just to try and help her. It also didn't hurt that he got a kiss out of it, either. Two, in fact. On the cheek, but it still counted.

Beforehand, girls just hadn't ever really crossed his mind as someone to notice. Yes, he was friends with the girls in his classes, and maybe some of them had crushed on him, but he hadn't been in the position to start crushing back. Martial arts and hanging out with Brett and the occasional pick-up games in the park was the only thing he really cared about at the time.

If he were being honest, when it came to girls, he was more nervous about whether or not Rocky had any interest in them. Or if they liked Rocky better. _Because everyone just_ has _to remind me just how amazing they think Rocky is_ , Colt thought to himself.

"Besides, we did the same thing you're doing now, a lot of talking," Colt reassured Tum-Tum with a shake of his shoulders. "Jo hadn't met ninjas before, and I hadn't met anyone that had lived on an Indian Reservation." He shrugged. "Simple."

"Yeah. Simple."

"Well, maybe this will help." Colt turned Tum-Tum towards him, laughing at the confused look on his brother's face. "Hold still." He started running his hands over his brother's hair, tousling the perfectly brushed dark locks. "There." Smiling, he gave Tum-Tum a double thumbs up. "Very cool."

"Thanks. I'll see you at lunch."

"Stay out of trouble." Colt didn't blame Tum-Tum for the lifted eyebrow and smirk that was tossed over his shoulder. He waved his hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get going, don't be late."

"What was that about?"

Colt slowed his pace, allowing Jason and Rocky to catch up with him. "Just talking to Tum," he replied.

"About what?" Rocky pressed.

"What else?" Colt asked, "Amy." Rocky slowly nodded his head, dropping his shoulders. In relief? Why was Rocky acting weird, too? "And the new kids. Kind of. Emily wants us to meet her for lunch, by the way. She's got some news on…"

Rocky looked at him in alarm. One second his eyes were wide with panic, matching Colt's own look, then the next his face was contorted in annoyance. The look that Rocky had expertly crafted over the years.

Colt didn't know how much Jason knew about everything; he had never even gotten into deep, gritty details with Brett, either. But this was a conversation that couldn't include the two of them. How did you leave your friends out of a conversation like this? One that was stupidly brought up in one friend's face. He really was a spaz.

"On something." Even he had to make a face at how lame of a response he had given.

"Something I should know about?" Jason asked with a small laugh.

"Uh."

"Well."

"Don't worry about it. If I can't figure it out during my free period, I'll need to spend lunch in the computer lab trying to figure out what's up with my car this time." He punched Rocky on the arm. Rocky lifted his hand and they slapped palms. "Thanks again for the ride, bro."

"Anytime." Rocky grabbed onto the strap of Colt's soccer bag, spinning him around in a circle, and effectively stopping him from walking after Jason. "You and Tum were talking about the new kids?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, what'd he say?"

"He thinks they're cool." Colt pulled the corners of his lips downwards. "Nothing ever really bothers Tum, anyway. Why?"

Rocky blinked. "Hm?"

"Why?" Colt repeated. "What do you think of them?"

"Don't really know them," Rocky replied. "From what I gathered from Rhuben, they're pretty chill."

"Yeah, Riley gave off the impression that they're always looking for something fun to do," Colt agreed. "The outdoorsy, type." He smiled at Rocky's absentminded nodding. "So, how were your knees this morning, old man?"

"Oh, shut up." Rocky snapped out of his deep thoughts to scowl at his brother. Colt's smile widened. Rocky did always have the work ethic to keep practicing until he got things perfect. But, still, he couldn't deny it was nice to see him struggle with trying to do something better. "Go to class. Or homeroom. Or whatever."

"I could say the same for you."

Rocky's eyebrows twitched, seeming to notice the validity of his words. In silence, he started heading inside the building. With quick strides, Colt quickly caught up to his brother, noticing the furrowed eyebrows and deep frown immediately. "What do you really think about them?" Rocky asked.

"The new kids?" Colt shrugged. "Don't know them well to really get an idea."

"We went off much less when we first met Jo and Miyo."

"Yeah." Colt couldn't argue with that. "But, now..."

"Yeah. Now." Rocky's shoulders lifted as he took in a breath of air. They dropped when he released it. "Now's different. People aren't always who they say they are."

"This isn't one of those 'be careful who you talk to online' lectures, is it?" Colt gave chuckled, hitting Rocky on the arm with the back of his hand. "I saw that you followed Rhuben on Instagram." Rocky quickly gave his brother a look. But not of annoyance. Colt was prepared for one. It was usually his go t-to face whenever Colt or Tum-Tum teased him. But this look was different. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"No, seriously." Colt jumped in front of Rocky and pressed a hand into his chest. "You and Tum have both been off this morning."

"I'll tell you later."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"I'll tell you later." Rocky pushed Colt's hand off his chest and stepped past him.

Colt threw his hands into the air. "You know, I hate it when you do that."

"Once I'm out of the house you can say it to Tum all you want." Rocky waved a hand in the air. "Until then, I reserve the right, as your big brother, to say it whenever I want." He looked over at Colt over his shoulder, smirking. "And when I think you need to hear it."

Colt stared after his brother, blinking. He jogged after Rocky. "Not much bigger now, though, are you?" he asked, falling back into step with Rocky.

"Height isn't everything."

"I think you mean _size_ isn't everything."

Rocky shoved Colt on the shoulder. "Grow up!"

"You're gonna miss me while you're gone, you know." Rocky gave his brother the annoyed look her had expected earlier. Colt responded with a smug smile, over swinging his arm with over the top jolliness. "Just don't get so heartbroken you kiss me again."

"Shut up, Jeffery." They veered towards the junior/senior wing of the school and Rocky pulled the door open, shoving his brother inside. They ducked a football being thrown back and forth across the hallway, dodged past groups of students standing in the middle of the hallway, before coming to a clearing in the sea of students. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Bye." Colt laughed at Rocky's quick, flat tone. Rocky gave an upward nod of farewell before pushing open a stairwell door and stepping inside.

"Later." Shaking his head, Colt made his way to his locker and popped it open. He dropped his backpack down his shoulder and to the crook of his elbow. Putting the books he didn't need into his locker, he stilled. He wasn't unused to stares, but still the feeling of being watched was unnerving. Chalk it up to his ninja skills, being kind to the environment and all of that. He took the time to do once over of everything and everyone around him. And there was one person who didn't fit in with the usual craziness that was this particular high school. "What? What are you looking at?"

Riley, or Rhuben he wasn't exactly sure which, shrugged from further down the locker bay. Still, she didn't stop staring at him. "Looking for something, actually, mate," she replied.

Colt lifted his eyebrows. "What are you looking for?"

"Your guitar."

"What?"

Her lips parted into a hint of a smile as she chuckled. "Dude, you eyed the amps in my garage last night as if you were about to pull out an air guitar any second." Reaching into her locker, she retrieved a stack of books and shoved it into her back that sat on the floor between her feet. "You play, yeah?"

"A little."

"Either you do, or you don't."

"I do."

It was better than piano lessons he had been briefly forced into. Heck, no one in his family ever touched the piano his mom insisted they keep in the living room. A conversation starter more than anything. Some nice decoration in the house. He honestly wondered how they hadn't been a target of robbers for that one item alone.

Even if he did play the piano, it wasn't as private as he would like. No room in his house wasn't soundproof, but he could at least be behind closed doors with the guitar. With the piano, anyone could walk in and just watch him practice, and mess up. And it would be obvious. At least with the guitar you could use distortion, or wah wah pedals, or any other effect to cover up mistakes.

"Cool." She nodded her head. "Didn't exactly peg you as the 'carry your guitar everywhere' type, anyway." She slammed her locker door shut and faced him. "I'm Rhuben, by the way. I could tell you were trying to figure it out."

"I wasn't, I was just—"

"Checking out the new girl?"

Colt closed his mouth, cutting off whatever excuse his brain would formulate and force out of his mouth before he stopped himself. Instead he said, "More like, wondering how I got stiffed the piece of pie you owe me."

"The piece of pie _Riley_ owes you," Rhuben corrected him, ignoring his apologetic lift of the corner of his lips. "Reckon that's fair. "She has it. You lot just kind of rushed out of the house last night so she couldn't give it to you." Colt's eyes narrowed suspiciously. They had a bet after all, whoever landed the skateboard trick would get a piece of his mom's pie. He won. He got nothing. "The proof is in the pudding. Or, the pie in this case, yeah? Swear, she has it. My mum packed it. She'll give it to you at lunch."

"Can't," Colt said, shoving his soccer bag into his locker. "I have to meet my friends at lunch."

Rhuben gave him an odd look. "Whatever, dude." He mentally kicked himself. Who else would he be meeting at lunch? Teachers? She even said as much.

"Yeah, good point," he said.

"Hey." Brett made his way through the crowd of students. Colt greeted Brett with a handshake. "Coach wants us to start bringing running shoes to practice. We might need them. Spread the word."

Colt groaned. "Hills?" he asked. Brett nodded. "I'd rather do ab work all practice than run hills."

"Hey, Brett, right?" Rhuben sidled up to the two of them. "From yesterday?"

Brett turned around to face Rhuben and nodded. "Just the bloke I was looking for. I've heard you're good with computers, so maybe you're good with phones, too. I've done everything I could think of and my mobile isn't connecting to the school's Wi-Fi at all."

"You're better off sticking with data," Brett said, taking the phone she held out to him.

"Internet back in Australia sucks, anyway," Rhuben said with a shrug, "I'd rather have slow internet, than internet that doesn't work."

"Wi-Fi here is filtered, data's not, so –hey, watch it!" He scrambled to keep Rhuben's phone from falling to the ground.

Colt bristled and firmed his shoulder in enough time to steel himself from being knocked over by Darren and Darryl as they charged through the small group. "Watch where you're going!" he shouted after them.

"Maybe you shouldn't be standing in the middle of our halls, huh?" Darryl asked, wheeling around to face Colt. "Ever think of that?"

"All that horse manure stinking up our halls," Darren added with a grin, elbowing Darryl in the side, "we thought it was in everyone's interest to clear out the smell."

"Our eyes were watering so much at the smell we couldn't even see you if we wanted to."

 _Yet you have no problem seeking me out._ "Ha, ha," Colt said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't have any new material?"

It was amazing how much they all had physically grown up, but their personalities didn't change. Once Darryl had lost his baby weight, and packed on some muscle, he shot up like a beanstalk. Sporting a fade haircut, a stack of lines had been shaved into the sides of his head. Admittedly, he was more intimidating now than he had been when he was a kid. He was big back then, but tall now with puberty and testosterone to back him up.

Darren was still taller than his friend, rivaling Colt with his own height, and never lacked the physical ability to follow through with his threats. Though, it was his words he usually stuck to. Darren knew exactly how to get under people's skin and keep needling at them. Unluckily for Colt, he had never run out of horse jokes with him. He also never ran out of the desire to try and one-up him. Even Rocky had to admit, Darren was a good baseball player.

"You still haven't learned not to run that mouth of yours, huh?" Darryl asked, stroking the dark patch of hair on his chin. "Might have to do something about it." He rolled his head on his shoulders and regarded his friend. "Right?"

"Right," Darren agreed.

"Hey, genius," Brett said, "zero tolerance policy at school remember?" The boys snorted. Even Colt had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Brett was more of a pacifist compared to Colt, always looking to find a way to avoid a fight. Colt was happy to have him in his corner. If there was anyone who could attempt to calm him down, and Colt wouldn't view it as a lecture, it was Brett. And Jo, if he were being honest.

"If it means they won't be in school," Colt said with a sneer, "I'm all for it."

"Wouldn't want to punish their parents, though," Rhuben commented, "you think they would want to be trapped with their own kids?" Brett quickly covered his laugh with a cough. A startled laugh slipped past Colt's lips. And he thought he had a quick wit.

Darren took slow steps forward, reaching up a hand to twist the stud in his ear. His lips slowly lifted into a smile. He didn't say a word, just prodded his fingertip into Colt's chest once, twice, three times before turning and walking away, motioning with his head for Darryl to follow him.

"Jerks," Colt muttered. Shaking his head, he turned back to face Brett. "You good?" Brett nodded. Then he regarded Rhuben. "You ok?

"Sweet as," Rhuben replied. She lifted an eyebrow. "They're…something."

"Yeah," Brett said with a hollow laugh, "that's the only way to describe Darren and Darryl." He angled his head in Colt's direction. "Can you believe they used to be best friends?"

"No!" Rhuben's other eyebrow joined the first. She trained her blue eyes on Colt, and he suddenly felt like he was being looked through. Like she already had him figured out. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling weird in his own skin.

"Good." Colt said flatly. It had been ages since he and Darren could be considered anything close to being friends. "'Friends' doesn't exactly describe me and Darren."

"No kidding. Why do they have it out for you?" Rhuben asked.

"I couldn't really tell you to be honest," Colt declared, throwing his hands into the air. "We were fine one day, then just started hating each other."

"That other guy Darryl?" Brett said, "His dad is Colt's dad's partner in the FBI."

"Do you want to give her my whole family tree while you're at it?" Colt asked his friend. Brett shrugged.

"One grandfather, a dad in the FBI, a mostly stay at home mum, an older brother, and a younger brother. Think I've cracked it." Rhuben plucked her phone out of Brett's hands. "I'll try and figure this out. See you in first bell."

"Try resetting your SIM card," Brett called after her.

"You said data is a work around, yeah?" Rhuben asked, turning around to start walking backwards. Brett nodded. "Got experience with that, then? What kind of sites were you testing out?" An amused smile came to her face. "Any you were desperate to get to?" She let the question hang in the air.

Colt and Brett exchanged glances. "You know those guys aren't just going to let this go," Brett said.

"Mmmmhm," Colt agreed, nodding his head. "Why can't they be like normal people and just bully me online?"

Brett snorted.

* * *

Normally, it was a good surprise to have a piece of "snail mail" arrive on your doorstep. Even JJ had gotten accustomed to e-mail and everything the internet entailed; it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to receive a package or two here and there.

A surprise one? That instantly had him curious.

One with no recognizable return address? Even more curious.

A package with an envelope filled with newspaper clippings, and a note with harsh handwriting? Stomach churning.

Especially one dropped off without so much of an official postal service. Though why would it be? Jack Harding had connections everywhere. Even now, he found himself twisting around in his chair, waiting for Jack to pop around the corner, or out of the closet to bark demands having hired someone to break into his home.

JJ used a hand to scratch the back of his neck before smoothing down his hair, settling back against the cushions. _You're being silly_. As silly as nearly throwing the box away from him the second he flipped open the folded note. Jack would know it's opened. Jack would know he had received the package.

He would know that JJ would recognize Jack Harding's handwriting. (There was no way for him to run now, or to pretend that he had never received anything in the mail.) It was the same handwriting that had authorized their fraud, the dumping of all of the waste on the land of that one girl, and the cover up of said dumping, and the abduction of that one girl's father "because it's harder to track a paper trail."

In testifying against Jack, he thought he had cleared the man of his life. But now he was back. Just like he anticipated but hoped wouldn't happen. The reality of it was, that you never crossed Jack Harding and got away with it. That Charlie Lightning guy would know. A job as important as working of the mayor, it was the easiest way to let his "projects" go unnoticed. It was the easiest way to be "ignored." The second he opened his mouth, tried to stick up for his land, his people, he disappeared. Jack could make people and problems disappear just as easily as he could make them appear.

For if Jack Harding wanted you to work for him, he would find a way to get you to work for him. And he would let you know when he was through with you.

And this was undeniable proof that JJ's job was not, in fact, done.

The words "You owe me," were a pretty good indicator as well.

With a heavy sigh, JJ picked up the newspaper clippings and flipped it over to gaze into the faces of the three boys that needled their way into his life. Into their plans. He thought he was done with all of them. It had been years since he ever had to worry about those ninja kids. He didn't want to deal with them. But, if it was what Jack Harding wanted, it was what he got.

 _But what exactly does Jack want this time?_ JJ flipped through the remaining newspaper clippings. _Something to do with these boys, obviously._ A check-in was in order. One that was long overdue. Boy, was he going to get an earful once he got in contact.

* * *

"Ok, what's going on?" Colt asked as soon as he joined his brothers and Emily at their lunch table. "What's up?"

"Would you like to take a load off before you start demanding answers?" Rocky asked, peering up at Colt over the top of his glasses. A folder was spread out across his lap. Colt leaned forward on his elbows, lifting out of his seat to try and sneak a peek. Rocky immediately closed the folder.

"Nope," Colt said, dropping back into his seat.

"Be nice."

"It's ok." Emily waved her hand in the air. "It's just Colt being Colt."

Colt stuck his tongue out at her, though with a good-natured smile. He speared his chunk of pot roast and dragged it through the dark sauce on his plate. "Sorry," he said, "hi, Emily. It's good to see you." He removed his phone from his pocket and glanced at the illuminated faceplate. "Three hours since the last time I saw you."

Rocky rolled his eyes, cheeks puffing slightly when he let out an annoyed sigh. "Where's Brett?"

"Computer lab," Colt replied. "He's looking up universities for degrees in Software Development." Closing his eyes, Colt pretended to start snoring obnoxiously. "As long as he can fix my computer whenever I need…" He let his sentence hang in the air.

"You know that's not what software developers do," Rocky said. Colt nodded. "And what does he get out of it?"

"Well, I thought being my friend was a pretty good deal," Colt said with a grin. Emily laughed. Even Rocky cracked a smile.

Anything to get off the topic of school. Rocky had all the pressure now, but next year it would be him. And, he absolutely had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. A baseball scholarship wasn't exactly a pipe dream, but he still would need to declare a major. It wasn't like a lot of schools offered the martial arts as an area of study. Sure, he liked to learn the history of ninjutsu, but no one knew how to teach him like his grandpa did.

He didn't think school was boring just because he felt like he had better things to do. Ok, yes, the thought did cross his mind at times, but it was simply because he wasn't interested in any of the subjects, and the teachers didn't exactly make everything fun, either. Truth be told, he liked to learn. In fact, he had never learnt more than when he was in Japan and visiting Jo on the reservation. The different cultures, the different people, it was all so eye opening to him.

"Oh, there's Tum." Emily lifted her hand, waving it above her head. Colt turned around in his seat and spotted his brother moving through the lunch line, piling his plate with food. With one hand. With the other, he was holding on to his phone, making faces, and sticking out his tongue at the camera, laughing along to something his friends were saying to him, all the while dancing to some music Colt couldn't hear over the school chatter. Catching Emily's eye, he waved his phone, and nodded.

"Kids," Colt said with a shake of his head, going back to his plate.

"You used to be the same way," Rocky pointed out to him. "There was a lot you did I didn't understand. Like keeping your hair so long you permanently kept it in a ponytail."

Colt dropped his fork onto his tray. "We agreed we wouldn't talk about that again," he said to his brother. Chalk it up to one of those "what was I thinking?" moments. His hair wasn't as long now, but he wouldn't be so quick to pull it back into a ponytail. It did kind of get in the way of his martial arts now, but it was better than a ponytail whipping him across the face every time he spun or flipped. "Or do you want to bring up Jennifer's insistence on—"

"Sorry," Rocky quickly interrupted his brother. "Consider the subject dropped."

He glanced at Emily out of the corner of his eye, shifting in his seat. Emily was suddenly very interested in her own school lunch, munching loudly on a spear of broccoli. Emily understood Rocky's interest in other girls, and his waning romantic interest in her, but Colt could see it was still hard for her to hear about his other girlfriends. But Jennifer was different than the other girls Rocky had liked. She insisted on calling him Samuel and projecting the image of the perfect couple. Much to his chagrin after a while, but always to Colt and Tum-Tum's amusement.

But Colt's hair length, while always a topic of argument between himself and his dad (he always had a flat "I'm not going to cut my hair" ready for when the subject came up, was a specific style choice. Different hairstyles could change your appearance. Sometimes, it made it harder for people to identify you right off the bat. It was always the same this time of year. He'd cut his hair in the summer months; and grow it out as it got closer to the fall. He wanted it to make it harder for people to identify him. Harder for _certain people._ People he hoped would never come back into his life again.

"Hi, guys," Tum-Tum said brightly, carefully stepping over the bench to join them at the table. "Did you start without me?"

"Would we ever?" Emily asked, plucking the folder from Rocky's hands. "Here. Take a look at this."

Colt pushed his tray aside and he and Tum-Tum (and Tum-Tum's sandwich breath) huddled over the printed-out newspaper articles. And they were all about Hugo Snyder. There were some small blurbs that mentioned him attending events and galas, receiving grants, and opening martial arts schools. Every article had a quote that mentioned his gratitude to their grandfather. For showing him how to turn his life around, how to run a successful business, and how to be a well-respected man.

"How did someone like this turn into a weapons smuggler?" Colt asked. He wrinkled his nose, leaning away from Tum-Tum's breath. "I don't get it."

"I think his businesses were a front for something," Emily said. "I think your grandpa found out and they had a falling out over it." She flipped past the printed articles and pushed forward sheets of paper chronicling financial reports. "Your grandpa started losing money in his businesses. A lot of money."

"If his boat is any indication, Snyder has a lot of money," Rocky said, settling back in his chair. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And with money you get power."

"And he has a lot of power," Colt agreed. Rocky nodded.

"How did you get all of this?" Tum-Tum asked.

Smiling proudly, Emily shrugged. "Can't reveal my sources," she replied. Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum all stared at her. "Sorry. If I want to be a journalist, I have to know when to keep things private."

"All the while enjoying that you can pry into other people's business," Colt said. Emily just shrugged a second time, her smile widening just slightly. Then her gaze shifted past him and Colt turned around in his seat to find who she was looking at: Riley and Rhuben. They were seated at a table not too far away from them, with Jason, and a couple other students from school. Occasionally, students would walk up to them, and converse for a few minutes, before joining their other friends. Emily put her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on the table. "There's a lot going around school about them."

"Like what?" Tum-Tum asked. He grabbed the brownie off his plate and took a large bite out of it.

"Did they say anything when you went to their place last night?" Emily asked.

Colt was just about to ask her how she knew they had dinner at their place but remembered the pool pictures even he and Rocky had put up on their social media pages. He also remembered seeing Emily's accounts following the Jacksons' but couldn't figure out if it was before Rocky had or after. And he wasn't going to insult her by asking because he knew that her actions weren't dictated by her crush.

Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum exchanged glances, all shrugging. "Just that they had been in some trouble back home," Rocky had said after a moment. His gaze flicked over towards his brothers, and Colt found himself and Tum-Tum nodding. "Why?"

"It's just some stuff," Emily replied. "Got into some trouble, dated a lot of guys, midnight rave parties, been suspended from school, that kind of thing."

"So?" Colt asked. He didn't understand the big deal. Girls were always talking about each other. He didn't get it. He had been kidnapped, held at gunpoint by a man crazy for gold, helped save a Native American nation, and stopped a terrorist plot at an amusement park. Anything else sounded like just school yard boredom. "What's the big deal about that? It's their lives."

"Have you even asked them about it?" Rocky asked.

"That's not exactly something you just go up and ask people," Emily protested.

"Yeah, Rocky, it's not like you or I asked them what their parents have to do with Snyder," Tum-Tum said. Rocky put his glasses back on his face and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Tum-Tum. Tum-Tum immediately froze. "Oops."

"Their parents have to do with _who_?" Colt asked, turning in his seat to look at Tum-Tum. "What'd you just say?" Tum-Tum just started shoving food into his mouth and Colt punched him on the air. "Tum!"

"Don't hit him," Rocky said to Colt. "We overheard mom and dad, and—" he angled his head to the side, indicating the twin girls, " _they're_ mom and dad talking about Snyder. It sounded like Mr. Jackson might have been involved with him at some point."

Colt looked back and forth between his brothers. "And this is why you two are acting all weird today," he said. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I knew I was going to tell you now," Rocky replied, suddenly sounding tired. "And I didn't know how you would handle it."

"Let's just go take your advice, bro," Colt said with a shrug. He swung his legs free from the bench of the table. "Let's ask them." Tum-Tum scrambled to his feet, chewing frantically.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" Emily asked.

Rocky squinted at his brother and shook his head. "If he wants to do this, let him."

"Rocky."

"What? Trust me, Colt would not listen to me."

"You got that right," Colt replied. He stalked across the lunchroom, weaving between tables before coming to the table Jason, Riley, and Rhuben were sitting at. He briefly nodded his greeting to Jason, but to the two girls said, "Are your parents involved with Snyder?"

Riley blinked. "Is that slang for something?"

"Hugo Snyder; businessman."

"Never heard of him, mate."

"Are you sure?" he pressed."

"Yeah." Rhuben licked some mashed potato from her finger before wiping it on her napkin. "I think I'd recognize someone with a name like that."

"Plus, we know all of our parents' friends," Riley added.

"Dude, are you ok?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Colt replied, not looking at him.

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Riley put her elbows on the table, threading her fingers together. "Must be pretty important if you're getting all aggro about the bloke."

"Excuse my brother," Rocky said, putting a hand to Colt's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Rocky shot Colt a warning glare, and Colt returned one filled with frustration. "He has no tact."

"No worries." Riley waved her hand in the air. "But are you going to answer my question? Who's Hugo Snyder?"

"Yeah, and what's a businessman got to do with you guys?" Rhuben asked.

"No one," Rocky said at the same time Colt said, "Nothing."

"He used to work with our grandpa," Tum-Tum supplied. "He's a bad guy."

"Tum-Tum!"

"Hmm. Our dad's an aeronautics engineer," Rhuben said, looking thoughtful. "Loves chemistry and all that. Kind of a nerd. I don't think he'd have anything to do with this Snyder guy."

"Not unless someone stole his code or something," Riley said. "But he puts his signature in all of that, so he'd know pretty quickly." She shrugged. "We can ask, though, if you want."

"Just like that?" Rocky asked.

"If you knew our dad, you'd know he's the type to tell us almost everything," Riley said, suddenly sounding bored. "The worst thing he could ever say to us is, 'I can't tell you'."

"Don't worry about it," Rocky rushed out. "Sorry we bothered you." He stopped for a moment. "Would you like to eat with us? Or we could come eat with you. I mean, we did just come over here and start demanding answers from you."

"You're cute," Riley said with a laugh. Colt smirked at the startled blinking Rocky started in response to her comment. "It's no bother. We're new. People ask questions." She then said to Colt, "reckon I owe you a pie, anyway." She grabbed the plastic wrapped shape off her tray and held it out to him. Laughing through his nose, he took it and wrapped it, biting a chunk out of it. Yes, his mom certainly knew how to make a pie. "You won't be so lucky next time."

"We'll see about that."

"Come on," Rocky said, "Let's get Em and our food."

"If this is all I'm needed for, can I go back to my friends?" Tum-Tum asked. "This was kind of pointless. I mean, I told you we should have told Colt last night."

"Tum," Rocky said in a warning tone. Colt silently lifted his eyebrows, but otherwise didn't say a word.

Tum-Tum crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the corners of his lips downwards. "You should have listened to me."

"Tell Pat and No we'll meet them at the bike rack after school to take them home," Rhuben said to Tum-Tum. Tum-Tum rolled his head on his neck and looked over at the two girls, his frown lifting just slightly. "Riles or I will walk to get Syd and meet them there."

"That reminds me," Rocky said, continuing to look at Tum-Tum with concern. "I need to go by the pizza place to get my uniform and schedule tomorrow after school. If you don't want to wait after Colt's practice, see if mom can take you home."

"Ok," Tum-Tum said. He lifted and dropped his shoulders quickly. "Can I go now?" He asked a second time, slower, more emphasis on his words. Rocky and Colt exchanged glances. Rocky nodded, and Tum-Tum left without a word.

"Cute kid," Rhuben commented. She then indicated the empty seats with her hand. "You going to sit?"

"It's better than treating us like we're some sort of bloody zoo exhibit." Riley smiled, her eyebrows twitching upwards. "Soon we'll start charging admission for our performances." Lifting a hand she rubbed her thumb against her fingers. "Gotta make some money somehow, yeah?"

Colt snorted. Her comment was pretty funny, but what else did she expect? Being the new kids at school, of course they were going to get attention. But they were the new kids at school, from a whole other country, and started two weeks after everyone else. They may as well be walking around with flashing neon signs.

"We'll be right back," Rocky reassured them.

"Tum's right," Colt said to Rocky, "you should have told me."

"I was trying to avoid you doing anything impulsive," Rocky said, scratching at the back of his head. He bumped the ends of his glasses, knocking them haphazardly off his nose. He made a noise of annoyance before grabbing the arms and putting them back into place. "If you want answers, let's wait until we talk to grandpa. Get his side of the story. Then we can bring this up to mom and dad. _If_ we need to."

"We should have told them," Colt said. "As soon as we got back from grandpa's that summer."

"I know," Rocky agreed. "But we can't deal with that now. We can only go off what we know now. You said you wanted answers, so let's get them. You just can't do it this way; demanding them."

"Ok," Colt said, "we'll do it your way." He bit back the "as usual," and "for now," that wanted to slip past his lips. Because it was how things usually went. He and Tum-Tum followed Rocky's plan, his decisions.

But this didn't feel like it usually did. It didn't feel like last time. It was starting to feel like something else. Maybe they needed to start approaching things differently, too.


	9. Sense or Intuition

**Chapter 09**

Rocky pulled his eyes from his textbook and stared at his closed bedroom door. His eyebrows narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses; eyebrows furrowed above the frames.

Silence.

Still, there was something that had pulled is attention away from his studies in the first place. Removing the pencil sticking out between his lips, he set it down on his desk and removed his foot from the edge of his desk, leaning forward to set all four legs of his chair on the floor.

It was just as well. He hadn't really been focusing on his studies, anyway. The wall of text in front of him was just that: there was nothing discernable about it. For a split second, he didn't even remember what subject he was working on at the moment. Shaking his head, he reached down by his chair for his water bottle and took a long, slow sip from it. He could hear his dad's words of reminder now; "Set a timer to maximize your study time," "focus only on the things you will be tested on," "study in an environment where you won't be distracted."

His whole house was a distraction. Between the muffled fights Colt and Tum-Tum got into next door, or the sound of his father's pacing as he worked, and the lingering wonder of what it was that Snyder had to do with the new kids, it was no wonder he couldn't focus. He just had to face it. This Hugo Snyder thing wasn't going to blow over like it did in previous years.

But, how long were they going to let his memory distract them from leading their lives?

Stretching his arms over his head, he lifted himself up onto the balls of his feet. He groaned when his joints popped, and his muscles extended. He paused, tilting his head to the side.

There it was again.

Lowering himself onto the flats of his feet, he crossed the room to his door and pulled it open, leaning his head out into the dark hallway just in time to see a dark form start to head down the stairs.

"What are you doing?"

Colt spun around, keys jangling as he brought a hand to his chest. "Geeze, dude," he whispered. He stepped back up onto the landing, the light from Rocky's room illuminating him. "I think you take that ninja thing a little too seriously, sometimes. I didn't hear you."

Rocky crossed his arms over his chest and leaned to the side, resting his head on his door jamb. "If you were a better ninja you would have realized I was here," he said with a half-smile. It grew wider when Colt rolled his eyes, nostrils flaring. He knew his older brother was right. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

Lifting a hand to rub at his forehead, Rocky made a face. "I know that."

Colt chuckled. A smug smile sat on his face. "Then why'd you ask?"

"Because I'd like to know where you're going so when mom and dad ask about it, I can back you up."

"Mom and dad won't ask," Colt said with a snort.

"They're not stupid," Rocky said, adjusting his glasses. "I'm sure by now they know you're sneaking out of the house."

"And if they do know, they haven't said anything about it." Colt shrugged his shoulders and fixed Rocky with a stare. "And you won't either."

Rocky let out a single, high-pitched, "Ha." Colt had no leg to stand on. Threatening him? Really? "You're right I won't. Because I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

Rocky leveled his gaze at Colt. "Try and stop me." Colt's lips twitched, looking as if he was going to consider it. Rocky didn't break his stare. He knew his words didn't hold a lot of weight to his younger brother anymore. He recognized that Colt had improved immensely with his ninja skills over the years. His growth spurt over the years helped with that as well. Rocky could still win sparring matches, but it had become harder as Colt knew how to use his advantages instead of striking wildly. He was still a wild fighter but knew how to make it work for him. "Realize that if you do try, you'll make enough noise to get mom and dad's attention."

Colt through his keys up into the air and caught them against his chest. "Let's go then," Colt said.

"Ok. But you might as well tell me what's up now, so I have a ready-made plan on how to navigate this with mom and dad when if it comes up."

"Oh, come on, Rock." Colt rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously. I can intercept and intervene, or I can let Tum know ahead of time whether or not he needs to play along no questions asked." Rocky uncrossed one arm and rubbed at his eye. "The point is, I need to know as much information as possible, because whatever work you put into sneaking out and back into this house, I need to put in to keeping this story straight. Take my offer to cover for you now before you regret it."

"Why do you need a cover?" Tum-Tum asked, leaning out of his and Colt's room. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Rocky and Colt said at the same time, briefly looking at him.

Tum-Tum looked back and forth between his two brothers. "What do you want me to tell mom and dad?"

"Nothing."

"Then let me come."

"No." A third time, Rocky and Colt spoke in unison.

A deep frown appeared on Tum-Tum's face. Normally, he would have used this as a time to pout, Rocky noticed, to get his way. Tum-Tum used his cuteness, and people still referred to him as adorable or cute, and position as the youngest to his advantage, even at fourteen years old. Not that Rocky could really blame him.

How often had he said, "Because I'm your big brother," even now? But this was different. His shortness in the cafeteria was a different side of him. Even Colt, who spent way more time with Tum-Tum than Rocky did as of late, couldn't figure out what had caused the sudden shift in his personality.

"Fine," Tum-Tum said with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'll just go tell mom and dad you're looking to fight Darren and Darryl. I'm sure they'll be pleased to hear about it." Rocky looked over at Colt out of the corner of his eye – it was what he had suspected as well. Tum-Tum spun on his heels and stepped towards their parents' room, his chin up.

"Hold it," Colt commanded. Tum-Tum immediately stopped walking. "Come back here." Tum-Tum turned around but didn't move any closer. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not dumb," Tum-Tum said, emphatically. An annoyed expression crossed his face when Rocky let out a "sssh!" at his loud determination, at the same time Colt used his hand to indicate for Tum-Tum to lower his volume. "People talk to me about you guys all the time, you know. I know Darren and Darryl pushed you around today."

"They didn't push me around," Colt said with a scoff.

"They've been talking online about your or whatever," Tum-Tum said, reaching into his pocket. He retrieved it and waved it in the air. "I figured that's where you're going. To find 'em." He took a step closer to his brothers. "So, let me come with you. I can help."

Rocky looked back over at Colt, finding a curious look on his face. He knew both Colt and Tum-Tum would ultimately look to him for the final decision on this situation. They always did. Even for something as small as trying to decide between two electives they wanted to take. Sooner or later, the two of them would have to learn how to make decisions for themselves.

 _Ha,_ Rocky thought to himself, _you could say the same for yourself._

In his senior year of school, he was faced with big decisions regarding his future. The main one being whether he was going to follow what was expected of him (and practically already decided for him as far as his dad was concerned) or do what it was he wanted to do.

Whatever that was.

His exams had been selected (whether he was going to take the SAT over the ACT or both was a long conversation in and of itself), the college he would attend had been picked out since the day he was born, and his major was practically decided for him.

Just like everything else, if Colt and Tum-Tum were going to understand the importance of living their own lives, he would have to be the one to lead by example. But they would learn. They all would have to. Too long they've had things decided for them; like the looming threat of not being able to see their grandpa or continue martial arts whenever they did something wrong.

Colt lifted an eyebrow in Rocky's direction. He kept his face blank and Colt's shoulders dropped as he expelled a deep breath of air. "All right, let's go," he finally said. Tum-Tum beamed and moved to pass Colt, but Colt stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Remember, if you tell mom and dad, I know exactly who to go to for a beat down."

"You don't have to worry about me." Tum-Tum shrugged. "Mom and dad probably already know."

"Yeah, yeah." Colt motioned for Tum-Tum to follow him.

Rocky removed his glasses from his nose and set them down on his desk. He grabbed his coat and keys and followed his brothers out the front door. Tum-Tum was suddenly all smiles as he claimed the passenger seat. Rocky pulled himself into the back row of seats and buckled himself in.

"It's been a long time since I've been driven around," he commented, moving out of the way of Colt's hand as he reached back to plant his hand on the back of the passenger seat. "This is weird."

"Just wait until little Michael starts driving," Colt said as she eased his truck out onto the street. He reached out his hand and pinched Tum-Tum's cheek, only moving to shift the car into drive when Tum-Tum batted his hand away.

"Not much longer now," Tum-Tum chirped. He leaned forward in his seat and reached for the volume knob, cranking up the already loud metal music. Rocky made a face but didn't say a word. He preferred silence while driving, but it wasn't his car, and he wasn't driving. "As soon as I get my permit, I'll be behind the wheel at all times."

"In that case," Rocky said, leaning forward in his seat to rest his arms on the driver and passenger seats, "consider yourself permanently driving me around."

"What's wrong with me?" Colt asked.

"Let's wait until after Tum gets his license to start teaching him how to be a speed demon," Rocky suggested, causing Tum-Tum to start laughing uproariously.

"You get one speeding ticket," Colt mumbled. He also had lost driving privileges and had to perform extra chores around the home to raise money for his half of the ticket.

"Tum can drive however he wants after he passes the driver's test. It's better if he learns how to do everything perfectly before he gets to that point."

Jessica was more patient sitting in the passenger seat, but she did have her moments as a panicked driver. Rocky had caught her on a few occasions with her eyes closed when he was first learning to drive on the highway. Sam on the other hand was more alert in the car, peppering Rocky with questions about road rules, and what to do at a railroad crossing, or what flashing yellow lights meant as he drove. Though the hard tone in his voice was more nerve wracking than all the other drivers on the road. Both parents just brought different stresses to the drive.

To dwindle that as much as possible when it was Colt's turn to learn to drive, especially with Colt's short temper, Rocky took things upon himself. He took Colt out around the neighborhood in quick driving trips to get him familiar with the car and driving as much as possible. He had planned to do the same with Tum-Tum as well.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"If mom and dad ask, we're getting ice cream," Rocky replied.

Colt maneuvered his car through the streets before coming up on the city park. Even as late as it was, there were multiple cars in the parking lot. Tum-Tum practically pressed his nose up against the glass of the passenger seat as he looked out into the night.

"There's a huge group by the baseball fields," Tum-Tum tapped the window with his finger, "at the pavilions."

"That's where we're going," Colt said, sliding out of the driver's seat. He was already taking long strides across the sidewalk as Tum-Tum and Rocky scrambled to follow after him.

"Just keep your cool, dude," Rocky said, rushing to catch up with his brother.

"Yeah," Tum-Tum agreed, "but if they start something, I've got your back." Colt's look of determination cracked slightly to allow a hint of a smile through. Even Rocky laughed when Tum-Tum started to shadow box, punching the air in front of him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm not afraid of these guys."

"Let's just see what happens, ok?" Rocky said. One of them needed to be thinking rationally, it might as well be him. Colt was getting himself worked up with each step he took. And Tum-Tum was never one too scared to tackle a challenge. Even when he was younger, he would stand up to anyone and everyone that towered over him. "It might not come to that."

As a pair of headlights passed them, moving slowly through the parking lot, Rocky glanced over, catching sight of a yellow truck. His pace slowed. It was just a car. Anyone could be out at that time of night for whatever reason. Still, he had the feeling that there was something familiar about that truck.

"Rocky, hurry up!"

Rocky faced forward and set off at a jog to catch up with his brothers. As soon as they got to the pavilion, the crowd that had gathered there parted and Colt slipped past, making his way over to Darren and Darryl who were perched atop a table.

"Dude!" Jason grabbed onto Rocky's arm. "I was hoping you wouldn't show up. I saw what was going down online. I was going to bring Colt home if I saw him."

"You know my brother," Rocky said, angling his head towards his brother. Jason nodded. "But, thanks, dude. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, no problem." Jason slapped his hand into Rocky's palm. "Are you ok, though? You guys were weird at lunch the other day."

Rocky sighed through his nose. He just needed to accept it; whenever Snyder was brought up, he would never be normal. No matter how hard he tried, he would have an involuntary flinch or did what he did best: keep quiet. Jason was one of his best friends, and he still hadn't told him a lot about what had happened. All these years later, and the man still could get a reaction from him and his family. And now his name was being brought up all over again, and potentially being lumped in with his family.

"It's fine," Rocky said with a shake of his head. Closing his eyes, he took in a breath through his nose, held it for five seconds, and let it out. _Calm down. Just calm down._

Breathe.

Calm.

Upon opening his eyes, Rocky slid back into his usual role. Focusing on others. Making sure everybody else was ok. Making sure Colt wasn't getting too in over his head.

"Look," Colt said, spreading his arms out, "we don't like each other. We never have. But, don't you think life would be easier if we just left each other alone? That's not too hard, is it?"

"Oh," Darren said with a _tisk_ , "but it's just too much fun. School's boring, you know? We need to find something to make the day a little better."

"You had no problem talking at school," Darryl commented. "So why don't you back up that mouth of yours?"

"Why don't you back up yours?" Colt replied. "You talk tough all the time, but you never want to do anything about it." Rocky watched as Colt slid his hands into his pockets and gave a slight head nod in encouragement. He was taking the steps to try and diffuse the situation as best as he could; hiding his hands to keep himself from throwing a punch or showing that the boy's words are getting to him. But even from the outside of the circle (mostly comprised with people holding up their phones, some adding light with their flashlight apps), Rocky could see how stiffly he was standing. "We're not at school now, so take your best shot. If you want, to anyway."

Darren got to his feet and made a show of stalking towards Colt. He didn't say a word, just threw out his hands, landing a shove squarely on Colt's shoulders. Colt stumbled back but recovered his balance quickly. "Come on," Darren said, beckoning Colt with his fingers. "Let's see what you learned from your gramps."

"No one talks about our grandpa like that!" Tum-Tum's voice rose about the crowd. Rocky craned his neck to see where he was but couldn't find him in the group.

"Come on! We want to see a fight!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The crowd around Rocky and Jason suddenly surged forward, and Rocky felt a hard push to his back and he stumbled forward into the center ring. Annoyance rushing to a spike, Rocky turned around to face the boy behind him. He recognized him from school but didn't know him well enough to know who he was.

"Do not push me," he said.

"You always have your brother fight your battles for you?" Darryl called from over Rocky's shoulder. Rocky briefly glanced back at Darryl. He was walking towards Rocky. As soon as Rocky faced the boy a second time, he was shoved again.

"Get in there and fight."

"Please. Do not. Put your hands on me," Rocky said firmly.

"Behind you." Jason pointed and Rocky whirled around, bending backwards out of the way of an arching punch Darryl aimed towards his cheek.

Rocky quickly spun out of the way, holding his hands up in front of him. He shuffled backwards, trying to put space between him and Darryl. Over and over, Rocky tried to dodge every punch, kick, and grab Darryl sent at him.

"I don't want to fight you," he said. "We can settle this another way." Darryl rushed towards him in response.

Rocky blinked in surprise at the sudden, quick movement, but still managed to bring up his forearm in a block. Angling his arm, he absorbed Darryl's swinging blows, allowing them to slide down his arm and away from his body. He heard scuffling behind him from Darren and Colt but couldn't see how his brother was doing as Darryl was coming at him with quick, repeated attacks that had Rocky constantly moving to keep space between the two of them.

 _Just breathe, keep him moving,_ Rocky coached himself as he moved. _Breathe._ _In. Out._ He reminded himself to stay focused, to keep his growing frustration and anger in check. He was always recognized as the calm on, the one always in control. Get him in a sparring match, or even in a fight, and he found his anger, annoyance, and frustration bubbling just underneath the surface. Still, he knew how to keep it in check, to meditate through it all. To not show any emotion.

The crowd squeezed in tighter around the four boys, jostling each other for a good position. A good camera angel. Shouting words to antagonize the boys even further. Darryl lowered his head and rammed his shoulder into Rocky's chest. Anticipating the move, Rocky had jumped up and backwards, landing on the bench of the table. He planted his hands onto Darryl's back and flipped himself over. The balls of his feet collided with the ground first and he stumbled forward onto his hands and knees, scrambling to get back up to his feet.

Colt had shed his coat at some point in the middle of the fight but was still quickly side-stepping Darren. Both their faces were red, and occasionally, they would stop and shout at each other, words drowned out by the equally loud crowd – the crowd that suddenly dispersed and started running in different directions.

"You ok?" Tum-Tum asked, grabbing Rocky's elbows, helping him to his feet. "Man, you should have let me in there. I could have gotten a good hit or two."

"I'm fine, Tum." Rocky said with a huff. He knew he was being short, and Tum-Tum's scrunched eyebrows and twist of his mouth indicated that. He couldn't help it. He just needed a minute to himself. A minute to decompress. And the jostling and bumping from running teenagers wasn't helping.

Tum-Tum took off before Rocky could react, shouting, "Colt!" as he went.

"Come on, we gotta go." Jason pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed Rocky's arm. "I heard someone say something about cops." He started pulling Rocky through the pavilion. "Let's go, let's go."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Rocky nodded and the two of them ran off into the cool night. Gravel crunched under their feet as they ran, the only sound coming from them accompanied by their heavy breathing. Jason stopped by his car, and Rocky moved to run past him to Colt's when he realized he didn't have the keys. He patted his pockets frantically before running back to Jason's car. They talked at the same time.

"I don't have the keys!"

"My car won't start!"

Rocky bit back an exasperated, "Of course it's not," before moving to lift the hood of his best friend's car. Frantically, he looked under the hood for anything that could have been the cause, this time, for Jason's lemon of a car, but he didn't even know what he was looking for to begin with. All around them, teenagers piled into their cars, sped out of the parking lot, and slid into the light traffic.

"Move," Colt commanded, appearing by Rocky's side. Rocky quickly did a once over of his brother; his coat hung off his shoulder, his t-shirt had stains of dirt, and made a rip at the seams on his shoulder, but overall, he looked ok. "Move!" He pushed on Rocky's shoulder and he got out of the way. Planting his hands on the metal of the car, Colt quickly scanned what was before him before reaching into his pocket, retrieving his car keys. "Rock, go start my car. We'll be out of here in a jiffy. Tum, come here. I need small hands."

Rocky scrambled to identify the correct key before running to his brother's car. He jabbed his thumb into the fob and the lights blinked twice. He pulled himself into the driver's seat and started the car. Slapping one hand over his ear to cut out the loud metal music, he used the other to adjust the driver's seat and to pull the seatbelt across his lap.

"Ok, come on, come on, come on," he whispered to himself, shifting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking spot. He carefully maneuvered the vehicle over to his brothers and friend and put it in park only to pause partway through removing his seatbelt. A row of four, square lights appeared in the rearview mirror, drawing his eyes.

The sound of the idling truck slowly melted away. A rushing sound filled his ears. He swallowed as quietly as he could. Didn't want to bring any attention to himself. He jumped when the driver's side door was pulled open. Colt leaned out of the way of the buckle of the seat belt as it went swinging into the door frame.

Colt gave Rocky a look that was half "What the heck?" and half concern. Rocky threw himself into the back row of seats, ignoring his brother's silent question. "Did you move my seat?" he asked instead.

"I'm not as tall as you," Rocky replied, reaching out a hand to purposefully, yet gently hit his brother on the side of his head with his fingertips. Colt's chuckle indicated that he was very aware of the fact. "Just drive, jerk."

At the sudden forward jerk of acceleration (Colt pressed his fist into his horn twice as they passed Jason), Rocky pulled his seatbelt across his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he gazed out the back window and at the still non-moving row of lights. The vehicle sat still at the end of the quickly emptying parking lot. It didn't move until Colt pulled his car to the exit of the parking lot, with Jason pulling his car up behind them. Rocky squinted against the bright lights, trying to make out the vehicle, realizing with a start that it was the same yellow truck he had seen earlier.

With a quick jerk of the wheel, and the rev of the engine, they were pulling out into traffic.

"Rock, move your head," Colt said, "I can't see."

Still, Rocky stared out the back window. He watched Jason cut across the four lanes of traffic, heading in the opposite direction. Then, the set of headlights pulled out. Rocky held his breath, waiting for the wheels to turn to follow them. But it continued on straight, disappearing into the night. Rocky sighed through his nose.

None of them spoke until Tum-Tum said, "Well, that was fun."

Even Rocky couldn't help but burst out laughing at his dry, direct tone. A relieved laugh. A laugh to allow himself to relax. He jostled Colt's shoulder. "Good job," he said. "Darren isn't an easy person to talk down."

"You should have just punched him," Tum-Tum said.

"Yeah," Colt chuckled. He rest his elbow on the car door and rest his head against his fist. "Darren's mostly talk." He shrugged. "I did give him a chance to not be an idiot. This just means he'll be ragging on me even more, though."

"That's his problem," Rocky said. "I'm proud of you, dude." Colt made a noise in the back of his throat, but Rocky caught the smile on his face reflected in the rearview mirror. "Take a right up here. Ice cream's on me."

"Ice cream?" Tum-Tum asked. "Yes!"

"We're already out, and If that's the story we're going with, might as well make it true."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Rocky?" Colt asked. He merged his car over into the lane next to them.

"Did you even look to see if a car was there?" Rocky asked.

"Ah. There he is."

Rolling his eyes, Rocky checked all the cars around them as far as he could see.

Just to be sure.

He didn't have much longer to hang out with his brothers until he was off to college. He was going to make damn sure he could keep an eye out for them as long as he could. Because if he had done so years ago, he would have found a way to call 9-1-1 the first time he heard that the supposed pizza delivery men had guns. It was the logical thing to do.

* * *

 **A/N:** And now we've got something from Rocky's POV. It's always interesting to me to think about things from Rocky's view as the oldest, and how his character may have grown and changed over the years, but still stayed the same in some instances. Mori will make an appearance with the next chapter, and things will really start picking up from there.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this.

- **Rhuben**


	10. Look into the Past

**Chapter 10**

Snyder ran a hand over his hair as he watched the other inmates milling around from the doorway of his cell. All in a pack. Shouting. Laughing. Watching TV. Not much any of them could ever do. There was word that internet and maybe some computers might be installed in the future, but there were never any timetables for something like that.

He smiled sardonically to himself. As if that would happen. No one trusted prisoners. Not with outdoor time, not with phones, what makes any of them think they'd be trusted with computers?

"Not in the mood for chess today?" an inmate asked, walking past him. "Don't want to play a game with your _little buddy_? What, did you two break up?"

Snyder just watched him go. His nostrils flared in annoyance, but he didn't say a word.

People talked. People underestimated him. They always had.

How wrong of them to do so.

Everybody knew his name, now. Knew what he was capable of. Not only as a teacher, but as a businessman. And from one businessman to another, Jack would do well to learn a thing or two from him. He didn't need to be a loudmouth all of the time to get people to do his bidding. Case and point with Harding. A little sweet talk here, some bonding experience there, one outburst, and the man was putty in his hand.

All he needed now was to wait for confirmation from the man before moving on to the next step. He had learned a long time ago that it was better to have people working for him. He could, and would, take the credit, but would wash his hands of anything else. Only the bigger projects did her oversee, and only on certain aspects did he get his hands dirty and personally tackle a job.

It was just the waiting that bothered him. Waiting to see if things fell into place exactly as he planned. All he had time to do in prison was wait. Wait as the days, weeks, and months passed. He wasn't always a patient person, but he recognized that this was a patient man's game.

It always had been.

Wait until people weren't paying attention to him, and then he could strike. He could take all that anger and frustration of being considered a nobody and prove to everyone that he was someone to be recognized.

Snyder turned away from the chaos outside his cell and stepped back inside of his domain. He lowered himself onto the edge of his bed. He rubbed his hands together before he rest his arms on his knees. It was just one day. One day since he made the call to bring whomever this JJ kid was into the fray. He needed the information he could gather now.

That was the real secret to his success: information. The more information he armed himself with, the less chance there was for things to go wrong. It was all about doing what was right and not what was easy. After all, it was a series of hard choices that got him to where he was now. Not everybody had the guts to do take a risk, to be the one to make the lasting decisions no one agreed with at the time.

That Mori didn't agree with at the time.

Their first school was a joint venture – after a lot of talking. Mori was all about learning and teaching the lifestyle of the ninja. Being able to defend yourself was a good set of skills to know, but only as a last resort if situations couldn't be talked through. It was all about how to live a more enriching life that would allow for better interpersonal relationships, and understanding of one another and blah, blah, blah.

Snyder laced his fingers together, squeezing his fists so tight, he could hear his knuckles pop. None of that would bring about peace and harmony. Or make anyone take him seriously. He knew he could do so much more, could advance further than what Mori wanted to teach him. He could be a leader, someone to look up to. But it was mostly Mori's investment, and he had to fall in line and work hard.

And maybe, one day, people would see what he had to offer.

Running a business was difficult. Running a business with a niche target? That was more difficult than any college course could tell you. Percentages, and diagrams, and business models were only things to learn from when they were actively being applied. Word of mouth and live demonstrations could only work so long to drive customers through the doors of their studio.

Business had picked up fairly quickly, but they weren't the only martial arts studio in the city, and they weren't going to be the last. Different studios had different styles and teachings. Mori was more about welcoming everyone and anyone that came or went through their doors whereas Snyder wanted to keep the people that actually wanted to be there. Snyder wasn't sure how long anyone wanted to study under Mori when the kids just wanted to punch and kick things.

"It's not about learning how to attack someone," Mori would always remind him when Snyder would bring up his concerns, "it's about self-respect, self-control, and living a positive lifestyle. Slowing down and calming your mind to take everything in before acting."

Snyder would just sigh and go along with it. After all, if it wasn't for Mori, he wouldn't have been introduced to the martial arts, anyway. He worked hard, looking to bring in birthday parties, and school trips, and becoming vendors at conventions and expos all to try and chase some normal source of income in their first couple years. Seeing all the hard work pay off was great, the excitement in students being opened to the world of martial arts was great, but he couldn't slow down his mind long enough to just relax.

They needed to make money to stay open. He needed to be taken seriously. His ideas needed to be heard. He needed to stop going to sleep at night worried that the rug would be pulled out from underneath them at any moment. Expansion was always on the table; it was just whether or not Mori would go for it.

Unfortunately, it meant that he wouldn't be working in the same vicinity as Jessica Douglas. But, if he was going to get her attention, he needed to take risks.

That's what this all was. A big risk. Snyder knew how to play the odds well. Being in prison gave him plenty of time to think. And one thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't going to give a job as important as this to those three bumbling idiots he had trusted the last time. He had learnt his lesson. He had studied hard.

Harding may think Snyder was relying on him. In a way he was, but the man was short sighted. A bulldozer so to speak, just ramming through things until they worked out in his favor. That wasn't how Snyder played things. Harding was only around until Snyder had no more use for him.

He was the only real player in the game, and he was the only one who would come out on top.

Sometimes, even Snyder had to admit, patience was overrated. Getting to his feet, he stalked the three steps over to the other side of his cell and placed his palms onto the cool, smooth brick. He pressed his forehead against the wall before he curled his fingers into fists, hitting the hard material over and over and over again. Stepping back, he bounced on his toes, swinging his fists into the air, ducking and weaving back and forth, dueling an opponent that wasn't there.

An opponent that might have had Jack Harding's stupid, slow, square face.

Snyder used to think the FBI were the only people he ever had to worry about. It was exhilarating to be one step ahead of them, watching them search for him in vain. He still couldn't understand how he slipped up enough to be in the same warehouse as Sam Douglas that day. Still, he knew that another businessman would be the one to bring him down. The one to do what he did better than he did. In the case of this particular businessman, though, the saying "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" rang true.

Snyder grit his teeth, swinging his foot forward, the balls of his feet connecting with the wall. How both he and Harding could have ever be entangled with the very same ninja brats was beyond him. But he wouldn't be a good businessman if he didn't take the time to regard the situation carefully. To size up this opportunity as it presented itself. After all, Jack Harding could be just as ruthless as he could. And in his experience, it was better to be around like-minded people.

Slapping his fist into the palm of his hand, he exhaled a cleansing breath. _Visiting hours are for a set time,_ he reminded himself, closing his eyes, _Harding will get everything you need._ Still, as he opened his eyes, he grit his teeth for the next hour and fifteen minutes, he had to wait with the crushing realization that he had to rely on someone else.

Jack Harding was a smart guy. Snyder could bet that he enjoyed any chance he could get where he was the one in charge, and that Snyder was the subordinate.

Breathing deeply, Snyder moved to sit back down on his bed. He was only snapped out of his deep thoughts when he heard a _clang, clang, clang_ at his door. "What do you have for me?" he asked, not bothering to move. His eyes flew open when he felt something soft hit the back of his head. Slowly turning his head to the side, he gazed fiercely at Harding who waved a handful of pictures in the air like a fan.

"Got the stuff for you," Hardin barked.

Snyder slowly reached up a hand before plucking the pictures from his hands. "He's sure it's them?" Snyder asked, "this JJ fellow of yours."

"He's going out for another round of surveillance," Harding replied, and Snyder clicked this tongue. "But, yes. It's them all right."

"I'll be the judge of that," Snyder said. He looked Harding up and down. "You can go. I'll let you know when I have something else to discuss." Mumbling under his breath, Harding waved a hand in the air and stalked out of the room.

Shaking his head, Snyder turned his attention to the pictures, starting to flip through them. There was one of a boy in a backwards cap, swinging a baseball bat up over his shoulder; a taller boy with longer hair running through the street; and a shorter one with broader shoulders, slugging a can of soda as he walked through a parking lot.

Yes, he was sure these were definitely them. Still, extra surveillance wouldn't hurt. It never did.

* * *

Colt pulled his gaze from the tree line that whizzed past his car window and set it down on his phone. The second the icon signaling his data signal cut off, he switched his phone to his audio player and selected a Metallica album, turning the volume up. Rocky started shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, a deep frown on his face. With a finger, he swiped across the phone on his screen reading whatever boring eBook it was that had captured his attention at the moment. It was even better than Rocky's pension for complete silence whenever he drove.

People could complain about his hearing, how easy it was to hear his music through his headphones or blowing out his ear drums as much as he wanted, but it was better than listening to whatever NPR program that was being pumped through the car speakers. Besides, who _didn't_ get lost in their favorite music, cranking it up to feel? And, there was no way he was going to be able to pick apart guitar tracks if he couldn't immerse himself in it.

Tum-Tum had instantly started up a movie on his cell phone – one downloaded from Netflix from what he could gather, with it playing in a small screen in the corner as he turned his phone to landscape to start up some game app. He gnawed on a piece of gum as he did so. Colt shifted, pulling his legs closer to his seat, cursing the fact that he couldn't stretch out as much without having Tum-Tum shrieking of being "in his space."

Still, as they grew closer and closer to their grandpa's cabin, Colt couldn't help but smile. He had taken these roads for so many years. He could take the drive with his eyes closed. Heck, if he had decided to sleep the whole trip up to the mountains, he would know exactly when to wake up. In a more depressing vein, on the return trip, he would know exactly how long was left until he was home and his annual summer trip was over.

Leaning his head against the window, he watched his parents converse in the front seats. Jessica's feet were up on the dashboard and she was gesturing with her hands, resting them on her knees in between words. Her seat back was reclined slightly. Sam sat ramrod straight in his seat with it's back even straighter, gaze on the road. Occasionally, he would remove a hand from the steering wheel to emphasize a point with a hand gesture before they sat at 10 and 2.

Quickly switching to his texting app, Colt tapped on Rocky's name and quickly typed out a message – remembering a moment later that he had no service to send it. Clicking his tongue, he closed his texting app and opened notes, re-typed his message. Glancing at his parents a second time, he extended his arm, holding his phone out towards his brothers, angling the screen for them both to see it.

 _What were you going to tell me the other day?_

Tum-Tum looked back and forth between Rocky and Colt. Rocky's lips moved as he silently read the message before looking over at Colt eyebrows, coming together in confusion. Colt rolled his eyes and quickly added another message: _At school the other day. You and Tum were off. You said you'd 'tell me later.'_

Rocky lowered his phone to his lap and took Colt's. Holding the erase button, he quickly cleared the text before typing an answer back, fingers flying over the letters. _I'll tell you later._

Colt held his hand out for his phone, but Tum-Tum grabbed it. He snapped his fingers, pressing his lips together, giving Tum-Tum an impatient look. Tum-Tum ignored him, adding a message of his own: _You mean that thing we overheard at the Jacksons?_ He angled the phone towards Rocky whose eyes widened in alarm.

Rocky and Colt reached for the phone at the same time, crushing Tum-Tum's fingers. A yelp of pain slipped past Tum-Tum's lips and their silence was broken. Colt pulled his phone towards his chest with a, "Give me my phone!"

"Hold on a second," Tum-Tum replied.

"Knock it off." Rocky still didn't relinquish his own grip on Colt's phone, pulling back in his own direction.

"Boys, don't fight," Jessica said, turning in her seat to regard her fighting sons. "Give Jeffery his phone back."

Rocky squirmed in his seat. "Get your elbow out of my kidney."

"Stop pushing me," Colt said. His frustration, annoyance, and anger increased ten-fold by the second when his earbuds were suddenly ripped from his ears. "Give it back."

"Moooooom!"

"Boys!" Sam shifted his gaze from the road to the rearview mirror. "Stop fighting. I'm trying to concentrate on the road."

"Tum, why don't you move into the back seat for the last bit of the way there?" Jessica suggested. Tum-Tum huffed out a sigh, popping his seat belt. He dropped Colt's phone back into his lap. " _Carefully._ " Tum-Tum reached back with his arms and hauled himself over into the back row of seats. "And don't eat anything."

"I _won't_ ," Tum-Tum huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, he peeked into the trunk where a pie and a cake sat carefully wrapped.

"And Jeffery, turn down your music, please," Jessica said. "It's too loud."

"Sure," Colt said with a sigh, sliding his ear buds back into his ears.

"Oh, sure," Sam said, "listen when your mother tells you to." Jessica laughed, reaching out a hand and placed it on Sam's forearm, lovingly stroking it. He removed his right hand from the steering wheel and took her hand, entwining their fingers. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Colt's gaze went back out the window until he saw something moving slowly out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he blinked repeatedly, watching as Tum-Tum slowly extended his arm, wiggling his cell phone in the air. Looking over at Rocky, Colt saw his older brother watching him, lips pressed tightly to stop himself from laughing out loud. Tum-Tum angled his phone first towards Rocky - whose eyes flickered towards Colt and he gave a slight nod of his head – and then over to Colt.

 _We heard mom and dad talking…_ Colt's eyebrows shot up. Tum-Tum's hands retreated, pulling his phone back before he typed out a response, sticking out in the space between them again. _Dad says he's going to get more information about everything._

"About what?" Colt mouthed the word. Tum-Tum hesitated, tapping his phone against his hand. Colt clicked his tongue and looked over at Rocky.

"Snyder," Rocky mouthed back.

Colt settled back in his seat, bringing his thumb up to his mouth. Of course. He should have known. As long as they lived, they were always going to be tied with Hugo Snyder. Now they were headed to the place where they had first laid eyes on the man. Tall. White suit. Menacing. Yet, he treated everything with their grandpa like it was a game. A game they won. But it looked like maybe he was gearing up for another round…

 _What else does he need to know?_ Colt thought. He lifted a hand and brushed his hair back from his face.

Eyes widening, Colt gave Rocky an annoyed look, asking a silent, sharp non-verbal " _What?"_ with his body language after the third hit to his arm. Rocky shoved is phone into Colt's face. He quickly read the message, _We have to talk to grandpa about him. Today_ , and nodded.

Soon, they were pulling into the familiar long drive that lead to the cabin. The street turned into soft dirt, rocks and bits of root hitting the undercarriage of the car as they continued up, up, up. Trees hung over the road, making a sort of tunnel of nature, extending deep into a forest. Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum gathered at the windows, watching for the familiar running trail, grassy clearing, self-built shooting range of sorts where they practiced throwing ninja stars and daggers.

They shared excited smiles when the red bridge came into view. Colt already had his seat belt unbuckled (and earbuds removed from his ears, chord wrapped around his phone) before Sam could stop the car. Tum-Tum launched himself over the back of the seat and landed in his brother's laps ("Ouch!" Colt shouted, shoving Tum-Tum off of his lap, "Be careful," Rocky warned, scowling) before he leaped from the car, shouting, "Grandpa!" as he went.

Mori lifted a hand in a wave, setting down the watering can he was holding. Wiping his hands off on his pants, he met Tum-Tum at the end of the bridge (which Tum-Tum took in quick running steps) to accept his hug. "Oh, ho, ho, careful, Tum-Tum," he laughed, "I'm an old man, remember?"

"Of course you're not old, grandpa," Tum-Tum said with a bright smile. "Did you miss me?"

"You especially, Tum-Tum," Mori replied, planting his hands on his hips.

"Once he talks your ear off, you won't be saying the same thing," Colt joked, stepping over to his grandpa.

"A little while on your own here," Mori said, accepting Colt's hug, "and you'll learn to enjoy the conversation."

"You're not lonely, are you, grandpa?" Rocky asked with a slight frown. He stood a few feet away, a small frown on his face. Mori quietly examined his oldest grandson. Rocky bent forward slightly at the waist, chin angling downwards.

"Stop being a freak and just hug him already," Colt said with a roll of his eyes.

"How could I be lonely when I have so many interesting voices around me?" Mori asked, spreading open his arms.

Colt looked around at all of the flowers, trees, and shrubbery around the house. _Grandpa and his flowers,_ he thought to himself.

Rocky relaxed into a smile and stepped forward to greet his grandpa with a hug. "It's good to see you, grandpa."

"Always great to see you, too, Rocky." He gave his grandson a knowing smile. "Nice to see you all made it up here in one piece."

"Just barely," Jessica said with a smile. "Of course seeing you always turns things around." She stepped up to Mori's side and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Hi, dad."

"Hello, sweetheart." Mori smiled. "Come in, come in. You all have been stuck in that car for ages."

"Can I feed your fish for you, grandpa?" Tum-Tum asked.

"Just make sure he doesn't eat the fish food himself, right?" Sam said with a laugh, carrying a three-pack of sparkling cider in his hand. He reached back over his shoulder with his other hand and dug his thumb into the button on the fob. The lights to his car flashed, a brief car horn honk bouncing through the clearing.

"That was one time," Tum-Tum said, making a face as Rocky and Colt burst out laughing. But it was enough for Tum-Tum to learn his lesson.

After feeding the fish with a pinch or two of their own fish food, Tum-Tum had decided he wanted to try some for himself, only he dumped the whole container in his mouth. Flakes of fish food stuck to his tongue and lips despite his sputtering attempts to clear it. It further got stuck to his cheeks when he started crying and frantically brushing it from his face.

"Go on, Tum-Tum," Mori said. Tum-Tum beamed hurrying inside, following his mom.

"Can we do anything for you, grandpa?" Rocky asked. "Finish watering the plants. Get some water from the well?"

"Both would be helpful, thank you."

"If only they were this forthcoming with chores at home." Sam shook his head, falling into step with Mori as they entered their home.

"I'll get the water," Colt said, elbowing Rocky in the side. "I'm sure the flowers have missed the chance to talk with you." It was no surprise to him that Rocky was the one who understood what it meant to have a conversation with the flowers. It was kind of frustrating, as usual Rocky was the first to understand what their grandpa was trying to teach, but not surprising. Rocky was always about mediating, and focusing, and taking in the silence around him. Colt hated the silence. Too much happened when things were silent.

"Ha, ha," Rocky said making a face. He nodded his head towards the cabin. "We'll have to find the best time to talk to grandpa about Snyder."

"Mom usually takes a walk around the property whenever she comes," Colt said, rubbing at his jaw. "Goes to visit that place for her grandma. Dad will probably join her. That's the best time we can get, I think."

"Good call." Rocky moved to retrieve the watering can left behind. "I didn't know you noticed that." He carried the water can over to a bed of flowers. "You notice a lot of things."

"I'm a ninja," Colt reminded him, "that's kind of the point."

Rocky chuckled. "Yeah, I guess," he said. He looked around the cabin, his chest swelling with a sigh. "Man, I'm going to miss this place."

"You're not dying," Colt said flatly, "you're just going off to school next year." Rocky cracked a smile, carefully pouring water over the flowerbed at the foot of the bridge. "Besides, you can still come up for the summer."

"Yeah," Rocky said, "I know." But he said no more after that.

Colt turned on his heels and moved to do his job. A sudden feeling of depression hit him. He hadn't thought about what it would be like to come up to the cabin, even a quick visit like today, without Rocky around. The cabin was always there. For all of them. Colt had never been there without Rocky and Tum-Tum with him. He had wished for it at times, but he knew that it wasn't something he actually wanted to happen.

A short while later, Colt had successfully hauled a bucket of water up out of the well. After adding water to the reservoir for the outdoor shower (Colt noticed there still wasn't a way to make the water hot) and adding to the reservoir at the side of the house, he joined his family inside the house. Colt smiled, watching his mom and grandpa both cutting through vegetables with ease, with Sam watching in awe. It was no wonder their mom knew how to cook so well.

"Hey, look! It's mom!"

Colt followed Tum-Tum's excited voice and found him in the front sitting area flipping through a photo album. He had a handful of walnut halves in his hand, a dish of walnuts on the table. He dropped down next to Tum-Tum, moving his finger away from a picture of their mom. She was sitting on a grassy side somewhere, one hand extended towards the camera, the other holding a can of Coca-Cola to her lips.

"Mom, you're so pretty."

"Why thank you, Michael," Jessica laughed. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she walked over to peer at the photo album. "Oh, I remember that. That was the first day dad got his new car." She pointed at the next picture in the series.

"This is new?" Colt asked with a snort. He didn't know how he managed it, but their grandpa's car had lasted many years and many trips with the roof rolled down. It wasn't a Mustang or a BMW, but there were a lot of memories in it.

"Not everybody is into cars like you," Rocky commented from a chair across the room. A book lay open in his lap. "You should be glad dad got you that truck."

"Well, it was new at the time." Jessica placed a kiss to the top of Colt's head. "We were all excited. Took trips in it as often as possible. We decided to go to the local diner the day he got it. It was great for road trips."

"Gas mileage was great," Mori said, "plenty of space, it took me where I needed to go, what more could I ask for?"

"Oh, look at my mom." Jessica pointed to a picture that had Colt and Tum-Tum bumping heads as they leaned in closer to get a good look. Their grandma sat in the passenger seat of the car, smiling brightly at the camera, a scarf tied around her head, sunglasses perched on her nose. "She loved that scarf."

"That's your scarf, mom," Colt said, taking in the sight of the polka dot print piece of clothing tied around his grandma's big blonde curls.

"Well, I always loved it, too." Jessica sighed through her nose as she looked through the pictures. "She gave it to me a little before she passed. I always dressed up like her."

"I didn't know you had braces," Tum-Tum said. He tilted his head back and shoved walnuts into his mouth. Colt laughed when Jessica made a face, rushing to turn the page of the pictures.

"Did you really wear clothes like that?" Colt asked, nose wrinkling.

"It was the style at the time," Sam replied from the kitchen, biting into a carrot.

Tum-Tum gasped, flipping the photo album around, scratching Colt on the arm with the edges as he did so. "Look, it's dad!"

"Oh." Sam took a closer look. A smile of recognition appeared on his face as he took in the image of a younger version of himself smiling brightly with Jessica's arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. "This was the day I graduated from the FBI Academy."

"This is weird."

"Jeffery." Sam spoke in a tone of mock concern, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "You know I've been working for the FBI right?" Grinning, he put a hand on Colt's forehead. "Are you feeling ok?"

"It's not that" Colt said as Rocky and Tum-Tum started laughing, "It's just…you had a life before us. It's weird."

Rocky rolled his eyes. "Mom and dad weren't always mom and dad you know," he said to Colt. Still, he set his book aside (Colt glanced at the cover and realized it was a book about Japan) moved out of his seat to sit on Tum-Tum's other side, looking over the photo album.

"Yeah, go figure," Tum-Tum said flatly around lip smacking bites of walnut.

"Ugh, stop chewing in my ear!" Colt groaned, using his elbow to push his little brother away from him. "I don't know what's worse; that or your Walnut Breath." Tum-Tum stuck out his tongue at his older brother, bits of mashed up food dotting the surface. "Or that. See? Tum is always in my space. Can I please have my own room?"

Tum-Tum instantly pulled his tongue back into his mouth. He swallowed. "You want your own room?"

"I've been thinking about it." Colt looked back and forth between his parents. "What do you think?"

"Once Rocky moves out you can have his room," Sam said.

"Why should I wait another year?" Colt asked with a huff. "He's had his own room practically since he was born." He quickly tied another tactic. "The attic. The basement. I don't care. Just anywhere, please."

"We'll think about it, Jeffery," Sam said.

"That's better than nothing I guess," Colt mumbled in reply. He turned the page in the book and came across pictures of a store front, signs with balloons, and interior shots of a building. Japanese art lined the walls, and mats filled the space. "Is this your school, grandpa?"

"Yes, yes," Mori said, making his way into the room. Placing his hands on his knees, he lowered himself into a chair, groaning and moaning as he did so. He winked in response to the looks the Douglas family gave him. "Oh, don't mind me. These old bones just like to sing every once in a while." He pointed a finger at the photo album. "This was the day everything was finalized. All the paint had dried. The lights turned on."

"Envelopes stuffed with flyers," Jessica said. "I'm sure that summer I saw more of that school than I saw my friends." She chuckled. "It was fun."

"I enjoyed having you there with me, Jessica," Mori said. "Your mom, she helped us with marketing and public relations. She was wonderful, talking up the school." A twinkle came to his eye. "And she may have sat in on a few classes here and there." Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum swung around in their seats to face their mom.

"I had to put my communications studies to good use, right?" Jessica asked with a shrug. Sam cleared his throat before popping the nub of his carrot into his mouth. "And who else to help than the owner's daughter?" She flipped back a few pages in the photo album and pointed at a picture of herself sitting on the floor in a martial arts gi, smiling proudly at the camera.

"But this was the school Snyder helped with, right?" Colt asked. He ignored Rocky's look of warning, and the subsequent stillness that suddenly came into the room.

"Yes, it was," Mori said, settling back in his chair. He grasped the arm rests of his chair. "I've never seen anyone work harder. He truly believed in this school."

"What happened then?" Rocky asked. "Why'd you guys part ways?"

Mori was silent for a moment. "Money," he replied. "I wanted to teach the art of ninja," he explained, "to live by it's values in all aspects of life. I wanted to train those who believed in a lifestyle change. Snyder was more preoccupied with how much money we could bring in."

"Well, you need money to keep the school open," Colt said.

"That's true," Mori agreed, "but I can teach anywhere." He lifted an arm, motioning towards the windows. "I don't need four walls to you what it means to be a ninja." Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum shared a smile. A ninja was part of nature after all, why not train in the thick of it? "I don't need money to do it. He couldn't understand that. I don't think he wanted to."

"Yeah, but how does a guy go from ninja school to being on the FBI's most wanted list?" Colt asked. "I mean, like, it wasn't like your school was a front for drug dealing was it?"

"Jeffery," Jessica warned. Rocky punched Colt on the thigh, throwing him a hard look, jaw set.

"What?" Colt asked. "It's just a question."

"We can't exactly talk about this," Sam said.

"Snyder's in prison, his case is closed—"

"That still doesn't mean we can discuss classified information."

"You realize how much that screwed us over in the first place, right?" Sam gave Colt a stare that Rocky had clearly adapted from their own father. "Maybe if we had known, we wouldn't have been Snyder's targets. Or had a better chance at defending ourselves."

"That's enough." Colt closed his mouth, shifting his gaze over to Mori. For a moment, he didn't say a word, a far off look on his face. "That's enough. I've spent my whole life fighting with Hugo Snyder, I will not let him continue to be a black cloud on this family." With a blink, his gaze re-focused and he allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "We're here to enjoy each other's company. Not fight. This is a time to be grateful. Grateful that we have the time to spend together."

"Sorry, grandpa."

"You're right, Mori, I'm-I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'm just going to talk a walk. Clear my head a little."

"I'll come with you," Jessica offered. "We'll be right back, dad."

"Take your time." Mori waved a hand in the air. "Tum-Tum, would you like to help me make dinner?"

"Sure," Tum-Tum said, jumping to his feet. He moved to rush into the kitchen and slowed his pace a second later to wait for his grandpa to join him.

"Great job," Rocky said, sliding over the couch to sit next to his brother. "That's not exactly what I had in mind when I said we should get answers."

"Sorry, it's just," Colt started roughly flipping through the pages of the photo album, "look. This guy was at our mom and dad's wedding for god damn's sake. If they didn't want us to know about him, why keep all of this stuff around?"

"Because it's mom and dad's wedding," Rocky replied. "You can't bulldoze people into getting what you want."

"And you also can't just always play nice and hope it'll turn out the way you want either," Colt replied.

"Whatever," Rocky said. "You'll figure it out, eventually." He was silent for a moment. "I just would have handled this differently."

"Of course you would have."

"We're on the same side," Rocky reminded him. "We both want to figure out what's going on." He shook his head back and forth. "This just seems bigger than two friends who had a falling out."

"Doesn't it always." Colt closed the photo album and set it aside. "So let's see who has the better approach?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm sure grandpa still has some of the training gear up," Colt said, "if not, we know how to do it ourselves."

Rocky chuckled. "Jeffery, you're not proposing a bet, are you?" he asked.

"No, Sam," Colt replied, "of course not." He clasped his hands together in his lap. "I'm just suggesting we have a friendly sparring match. See who comes out on top. No hard feelings."

"No hard feelings," Rocky agreed. "Which also means no sulking, pouting, or lashing out when I beat you."

"Same goes for you," Colt said with a laugh.

Rocky got to his feet, sucking air between his teeth. "Well, you've never beat me, so…" He clapped Colt on the shoulder and stepped past him, pushing open the front door.

Chuckling, Colt followed after him. Stepping onto the porch, he took in a deep breath of air through his nose, looking out across the front yard. He really did love being at his grandpa's cabin.

* * *

 **A/N:** Back with a new chapter! And I love this one. I wanted to show not only the differences between Snyder and Mori here, but Rocky and Colt as well with how they handle situations/being in the position of the leader. You'll be seeing more of that as the story goes on. Plus, it's also pretty cool to try and think up how Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum would be using technology nowadays.

Thanks for taking the time to check out this fic.

-Rhuben


	11. A Parent's Perspective

**Chapter 11**

"You've gone silent." Jessica turned her head away from the swaying branches of the trees they passed to look at her husband. "What's wrong?"

Sam smiled, giving Jessica a soft look of teasing. "I've always been quiet," he said, "you haven't noticed that yet?"

"Yes," Jessica agreed, "but there's a difference between quiet and being silent. And you're not as quiet as you think you are. Pensive at times, maybe. Which is why I worry." She did recognize that even when they had started seeing each other that she tended to dominate conversations. Sam had always reassured her that he didn't have a problem with it. He just liked listening to her talk, he had explained at the time, he liked listening to her share her opinions on such a wide variety of topics.

"Like, you tend to get quiet when you're watching a game on TV, or coaching one, or trying to figure out how to bring up a conversation with the boys." She turned towards Sam, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from walking. "You get silent whenever there's something really weighing on your mind. It's about Snyder, isn't it?"

"Isn't it always?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"Oh, honey." Jessica lifted a hand and brushed her husband's hair out of his face, briefly wondering when he had started to sprout grey hairs.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head, though seemed to relax to some extent at her gentle touch. "I can go ages not thinking about him, but he's always there, just at the back of my mind."

"You know this is something you could tell the therapist every once in a while," Jessica pointed out to him. Sam made a noise in the back of his throat. "We started going for the boys, but it's beneficial for all of us. It wouldn't hurt if we started going more often. You have enough paid time off built up," Jessica reminded him. Sam took her hand, and the two continued down the path. "I'm just thinking of the boys."

"I know," Sam said, "me too." They were silent for a moment, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs punctuating the otherwise still air. "I knew this position would be time consuming."

"We both did," Jessica reminded him.

"And we both want to provide the best for the boys," Sam said. "That's all I'm trying to do."

"Me, too. But we can't just keep doing that in our own separate ways. We need to be a united front on this."

"How are we not?"

"Sam." Jessica stepped in front of her husband. She planted her feet firmly into the soft earth, crossing her arms over her chest. Being shorter than him and his tall, study frame, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. "You handle things outside of the house, and I handle things inside the house. That's how it's always been."

"So, what, you want me to quit my job?" Sam asked.

Jessica scoffed. "That's exactly what I just said," she said flatly. "No, I don't want you to quit your job. You would be miserable without it. This is what you've always wanted to do."

"Then what's the problem?"

Pressing her lips together, Jessica had to stop herself from laughing out loud. It wasn't as simple as saying "everything" was the problem, but it was also the only way she felt like she could explain it. "We both knew that your job would be time consuming," she said. In fact, she could remember her mom and dad's worry about just how time consuming it would be.

They were right, of course, but Jessica knew what she was getting into – she and Sam had been separated enough times through the early years of their relationship whether it was due to busy course schedules in college, busy on-campus job schedules, or when he was going through the Academy. If they could make it through correspondences through phone calls and letters at that time, surely it would be easy for them to do the same after they started their family.

"I just don't think we really stopped and thought about how much it'd affect us at home," Jessica said. She put a hand to her head. "It was hard enough having to explain to them what would happen if you were ever hurt on the job. Or worse." She then said quietly. "You didn't have to see their faces when I told them you'd have to miss a game or wouldn't be making it home in time for dinner. I think that was the hardest part."

A muscle in Sam's jaw twitched.

"And we both never expected anyone to target them in retaliation against you."

Sam slowly closed his eyes, pushing a sigh out through his nose. "If I had any idea that would, or could, have happened, I would never have put the boys in that position," Sam said. "Or you."

"We never had any idea it was something to worry about," Jessica replied. "I don't blame you for what happened."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Sam's eyes flew open, eyebrows narrowing. "What does that mean?"

"You just said you never would have put us in a position to be hurt," Jessica said. Sam put his hands on his hips, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. " _You_ didn't put us anywhere. _We_ both did. We both didn't treat Snyder the best we could have."

Sam rubbed at his chin with his hand. "One of us did," he said. Jessica rolled her eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me. You know I didn't like the guy."

"You could have been more civil, that's all," Jessica said.

"Now you're going to blame this on me? Just because I wasn't nice to the guy? Are you serious?"

"I just said I never blamed you! I never have." Jessica watched, shoulders dropping as Sam turned away from her. Walked away from her. "This is what I mean; we're both looking at this as to how we could have changed things, how we're trying to help our boys. Sam." She stepped towards him, grabbing his elbow with her hands. "We need to be handling this together. We can handle it together."

Placing his hand over Jessica's, Sam sighed. "Things were always easier because I knew I had you back at home handling everything," he said. "I'm sorry if I've – that I've taken it for granted. I just always thought it was better to keep work and home separate."

"Honey, it's never been separate," Jessica reminded him, pressing her face into his arm. "But we've always made it work. Until…"

"Until it broke into our home and threatened our boys." Jessica nodded. "I try so hard, Jessie." They started walking again. "I try so hard not to think about it. What if I didn't make it there in time? What if Mori didn't?"

"We can't keep thinking about what could have happened. The boys are safe."

"How am I supposed to keep everyone in this city, this country, safe if I can't even protect my family?"

Jessica didn't answer straight away. By keeping their city safe, he didn't have to worry so much about what went on at home, because she was there. She made sure the boys got to and home from school safely, got to their practices, had their homework done, and was well fed. It was what she wanted to do. What she loved to do. It just didn't feel like enough anymore. She was the one who decided to leave the boys with the babysitter that night. She was the last line of home defenses that night.

No, she didn't blame Sam for what happened. She blamed herself.

 _Maybe_ , she had found herself thinking a time or two, _things would have turned out better had you been home._ Then another side of her, maybe the side that had listened to Sam's cynical (he would say realistic) viewpoints, would remind her, _it could have been worse if you were there._ Still, she couldn't help but think that if Snyder had known she was at home, maybe he would have called off the strike.

Jessica shivered and Sam moved to put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Hugo Snyder had always been part of their lives, but she never thought things would turn out like this. Sure, he was strange, a bit high strung, and ambitious, but nothing that would indicate any criminal tendencies and _definitely_ not murder. It was even a surprise to her when Mori had fired Snyder from their ninja school.

"Never you mind why," Mori had said upon Jessica's inquiry. He didn't get short in tone often, but when he did, you knew it was a time to listen to him. "He wasn't working out, and we didn't see eye to eye about how to run the school. That's all." There was true in his words, she knew. Even she could recognize that Snyder and her father butt heads a lot despite the front they put on for their students.

"You're a fantastic father, Sam," Jessica said. "I wouldn't have wanted to start a family with you if I didn't know you were going to be. I couldn't ever want anyone else to go through life with." She looked up at him. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Sam said, giving Jessica a warm smile. "I don't want to do this with anyone else, either." He then pulled his mouth to the side, gazing out over the empty path in front of them. "I couldn't do half of this stuff without you at home helping with the boys." He was silent for a moment. "They heard us arguing the other morning."

"I know," Jessica replied. "I wish we didn't fight. It was just dinner."

"It was important to you," Sam protested, "you're right, I should have made it a point to go instead of giving you bad news right off the bat."

"Truthfully, I'm glad you told me up front," Jessica said with a sigh. "It was better to know sooner, than last minute. I know you would do your best to get off work on time."

Sam gave a wry smile. "I couldn't leave you alone without backup just in case it went south," he said. "Just like when you met the Colemans."

Jessica put a hand to her face, laughing. "Oh my gosh, they were so boring," she said. "I feel so bad for saying that, but they were." She then put her hand to Sam's chest. "You were quick thinking I do have to say."

"I don't make it a habit to lie about suddenly needing to fly out," Sam said, laughing along with her, pulling Jessica tighter into his chest. "It was a good thing you already had told them I worked for the FBI."

"Yeah." Jessica straightened, looking up at the underside of her husband's jaw. "Reed and Renee. Are they really involved with Snyder in some way? I know you can't say a lot, but…"

"Reed has reason to believe he is," Sam replied with a sigh. "He has reason to believe some of his work was stolen. Quality control inspection results, handbooks and manuals for software, that kind of thing. Snyder may have had a way to secure the weapons we tried to bust him for, but there was no way he had anyone on his team that understood the computer systems behind it. Or had any information to lie his way out of anyone asking questions."

"Oh, no," Jessica said quietly. "And they seem like such nice people. Their kids, too."

"From what I've come to understand, their kids had gotten into a lot of trouble back home," Sam said. "And that's part of the reason why they moved here."

"Oh, Sam," Jessica said with a click of her tongue. She stepped away from her husband, looking up at him with a frown. "You didn't have them looked into, did you?"

"They said it themselves," Sam protested, "they moved for his job and for their kids. I also overheard one of their daughters telling Colt the same thing."

"Honey," Jessica laughed, "Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum wrote the book about getting in trouble. What teenagers don't get into some sort of trouble every now and then?" Sam didn't answer. "You have to loosen the reins every once in a while. Are you going to do background checks for every one of Samuel's teachers when he goes off to college?"

"If I have to," Sam replied. Jessica tilted her head to the side, fixing him with a stare. "No, I know I can't. It's just that I know people. They'll show you what they want to show you, and then turn into a completely different person once you're sucked in."

"Not everybody is like that," Jessica said. She held her arms out indicating herself. "You didn't think that about me when we first met." She paused. "Did you?"

"Well," Sam blinked repeatedly, the corners of his lips pulling down slightly, "no. But, I wanted to know absolutely everything about you, and that gave me an excuse to be around you all the time, so it didn't really matter."

"Nice save," Jessica said with a hint of a smile. "It's hard for me to think about, too. I get it. Whenever I find a piece of mail wedged between our door and not in the mailbox, my heart starts racing. I get anxious when random phone numbers call me. If anything with Snyder has proven anything, it's that we don't really know anyone."

"Exactly."

"I'm going to worry about Samuel, too," Jessica said, offering her hand to her husband. He instantly slid his hand into hers and, once again, they started walking again. "But we have to let him trust his judgement. You have to admit that he, Jeffery, and Michael have a great set of instincts about them."

"They do, I agree," Sam replied, nodding his head, "and I know we have Mori to thank for that."

"And you as well," Jessica said. "You've taught the boys a lot, too. I just think you're letting – we _both_ letting what happened to Snyder make us too cautious now."

"Because he was always up to something, Jessica," Sam said, a sudden burst of noise that even made Jessica flinch. "Why would that change now? He still might have access to Reed's work. He could be planning something right now, and we just don't know it. He always knew how to manipulate people: you, your father."

"And you!" Jessica reminded him, an edge to her tone. She didn't need the reminder. Snyder was linked to her family because of her. There was no way she could ever forget that. A part of her, deep down, wondered if he had only returned years ago just to rub it into Sam's face that he still hadn't been caught.

"And me," Sam agreed, and Jessica felt all the tension melt from her shoulders. "I'm sorry I shouted. You're right. This isn't something we should be fighting each other about. Or trying to handle on our own. You know I can't tell you everything that could happen—"

"Just tell me what you can, and that'll be enough," Jessica said. "And whatever's going on at home, I'll let you know as well." She squeezed his hand. "I know you feel left out at times when the boys don't want to come to you for things, but you know they love you."

"I know," Sam agreed. "I know. I'm glad they have you." They came to the end of the trail and stopped to gaze upon Rocky and Colt sparring in the front yard. "I'm glad they have Mori. We've all done a good job raising them, haven't we?"

Jessica blinked away the tears that suddenly came to her eyes, nodding. "I remember when we first brought Samuel up here," she said. "All he did was just sit in the middle of the yard and look up at all of the trees."

"Jefferey just kept running everywhere," Sam said with a laugh. "I thought for sure he would get lost and we'd have to go looking for him. Samuel wanted to show him everything, and he just wouldn't sit still."

Her gaze swiveled over to Tum-Tum who was leaning against the door frame of the cabin, watching Rocky and Colt, a Twizzler hanging out of the corner of his mouth, slowly inching upwards as he chewed. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked indifferent (clearly something he adopted from Colt) until one of his brothers had done something impressive and he would lean over to Mori and talk excitedly with him.

"I remember when Michael was too small to go anywhere and he would be playing with his toys on the porch," Jessica said, wiping at her eyes with her thumb, "and he would just start bawling whenever Jeffery and Samuel moved where he couldn't see them."

"Yeah, he always wanted to be just like them," Sam agreed. "Always wanted to be in the middle of the action. That hasn't changed."

"No, it hasn't," Jessica agreed. "I hope that doesn't change when Samuel moves out. I hope they stay as close as they are now." She gasped as she watched Colt charge at Rocky. Rocky acted quickly, side-stepping out of the way. Colt didn't let that slow him down as he plated one foot hard on the ground, the other stretching forward to press onto the trunk of the tree he ran straight towards. He took another step upwards, leaning back, before kicking off and flipping over to land on his feet, catching Rocky in the side with a back kick. "You know, with a few fights here and there."

"Jeffery wants his own room," Sam said, "what do you think about that?"

"Of course he wants privacy," Jessica replied. "Tum-Tum is bound to want some more of his own privacy sooner or later."

"They're growing up too fast," Sam said sadly.

"Honey, I think that started the night they were kidnapped." Jessica swallowed. "We can't keep too much from them, anymore. They notice a lot more than we think." She removed her hand from Sam's and gathered her hair into a ponytail between both hands. "Samuel's almost 18 years old. He's old enough to be included in some of these conversations."

"You're right," Sam agreed. "I know you're right. I think we can both agree we can start to tell them what we feel they need to know."

"I think that's a start." Jessica sighed, letting her hair drop, fanning around her shoulders. "So, what do we tell them? I didn't think anything would come from Snyder's last appearance and he's just sitting in prison right now."

"Right now," Sam said, "let's just enjoy this."

* * *

 **A/N:** I love writing from Sam and Jessica's point of view. Of course, we didn't get to see it a lot in the movies, but I always felt like the two of them would react to things separately: Sam looking more inwards to his work, and Jessica more inwards to the household. It's a plot point I'm excited to follow. And, now, we've got a little bit more into what Snyder's plan had been and how Reed may or may not have been a part of it.

Thanks for taking the time to check out this story.

-Rhuben


	12. Keeping Time

**Chapter 12**

If there was one thing Snyder hated, it was to be kept waiting. Everything had a time limit, and time always seemed to move faster than anyone anticipated. Even while sitting in prison, the sun would soon be setting just past the outer walls of the prison, signaling the end of another day before anyone realized it.

Another day with no updates.

Snyder had everything down to a science. Things were to fall into place exactly when he planned for it. What better way to make sure he was someone to be listened to? To follow behind. If things went ok, he had no reason to lose his temper. "You catch more flies with honey," and all that jazz. And it was true. He got enough people to work under him by being nice, by providing them exactly what it was they wanted to show that he knew all about follow through.

Only did that quick temper come in when people didn't treat him the exact same way. They didn't respect his wishes. His commands. When they didn't follow through with their promises. When they showed weakness. You could only be nice for so long. That moment he could let his frustrations out in no uncertain terms, to remind everybody that _he_ was the one in command was his favorite. He _loved_ that moment.

Why anyone would even question him or try and derail his plans he could never understand. He had changed the rules of the game. Everything he touched turned into gold, into platinum, better than anything anyone could ever imagine. Because he wasn't afraid to step outside of the box. To try new things. To find the risk of failure and ensure that everything would turn out all right. Most importantly, he knew how to keep those beneath him in line. Any good business had a great manager.

And to be a great manager, you had to know people. More importantly, you had to know how they thought. How their minds worked. You had to know how they thought, what drove them, what their goals were. The minute you figured that out, figured out what made people tick, they were putty in your hands. Pawns in the game of life.

And he was the chess master.

No one had ever been able to outdo him.

Fingers laced together, Snyder's stare across the room turned more severe by the second. His knuckles popped as he tightened his clenched grip even more tight than it already had been. No one had been able to defeat him except for Sam Douglas.

 _How did he do it_? Snyder had thought to himself a lot over the years. _Where did I mess up? How did I even get to be in the same room as him?_ He had been so careful. For years, he had been able to just slip past the FBI's radar and on to his next project. And he could laugh all the way to the bank. No one could touch him. So, how did he wind up right where the FBI wanted?

Hugo Snyder didn't make mistakes. He couldn't make mistakes. Too much was riding on him and his decisions for there to be anything that went wrong.

"No." Snyder shook his head sharply from side to side. He blinked, half expecting his long ponytail to smack him in the side of his face. But it didn't come.

His hair had been chopped off ages ago. He didn't have anything at his disposal to keep up appearances. His slicked back hair had quickly lost its sheen, became puffy, even a bit curly, tangled, hard to manage. Tailored suits weren't available behind bars. He had to wear the same jumpsuits as everyone else. His rings, expensive watches, nice pieces of jewelry were all taken from him during intake. He couldn't even use it to barter while behind bars. His words didn't hold as much weight to those who knew how to run the system inside.

He was no longer an individual.

He no longer stood out.

He was no longer _the_ Hugo Snyder.

And it was all Sam Douglas's fault. Once again, the man had weaseled his way to come out on top. But what was it like trying to chase down an old friend? Did people look at him differently? Wonder if he was a man that they could no longer trust? No, that definitely wasn't the case. _He still has his job after all,_ Snyder reason with himself. _He was head of the Task Force set on taking you down._ What was it about Sam Douglas that everyone gravitated towards?

It had always seemed so easy for him. Snyder's nostrils flared. He could even remember back when they were attending school, that Sam seemed to float from group to group, talking easily with everybody. Talking easily with _her_. Everybody liked him. He was a great athlete. He was a man everybody felt secure around. Always surrounded by friends.

Well, Snyder was just as good as him. If not better. No, he _was_ better. The only difference was, he didn't need other people to get to where he wanted to go. Not really. He may have let people think that was the case, but Snyder was all out for himself. He didn't need a partner. Mori may have taught him everything that he knew, but it was jus a baseline. Just like his martial arts, he was stuck in the past, never wanting to branch out and expand, to change with the times.

That was the secret to his success. Snyder knew when to go with the crowd and when to branch out on his own. Afterall, working with someone, partnering with someone was always a risk. Just like he was taking a risk letting Jack Harding anywhere near him. In fact…

Snyder shifted in his seat, looking around the crowded unit. No sign of the fallen business mogul. Jack Harding was a big man; both physically and with his overall airs. Someone who threw his weight around to make sure people fell in line. Although, just looking at him, you knew he was someone who could get what he wanted.

Snyder hadn't been in prison that long when Jack Harding waltzed through the doors. Just like everyone else, he walked in carrying rolled up bedding and towels under his arm. Most of the newbies walked in timid, quiet, barely looking anyone in the eye. Some of the repeat offenders had a sort of swagger to themselves. Harding on the other hand, with one sweeping gaze around the room, dared everyone to say one word to him. By that time, Snyder had read all about him in the papers; about his businesses, and the Tawankan Tribe, and how it was all foiled by those ninja brats. You always have to keep an eye on your competition and Jack Harding was one of his biggest competitors.

The last thing Snyder needed was someone who had failed just like him. But no one else had the experience of facing those three little ninjas. If they wanted to call themselves that. Heck, the media did. He had to accept that Harding was the man he needed at this moment in time. He'd get rid of him and go it alone sooner or later. It was just waiting for that opportune moment. After all, there wasn't room for both of them to be on top.

Still, there were advantages he knew he could use for his own gain. Unlike Harding, Snyder didn't have community service detail assigned to him by a judge. Every once in a while, Harding was able to get outside the four walls of the prison and, if everything was done correctly, able to get a line out to whomever it was he still had under his thumb. Phone calls were monitored. Visits were watched. Mail was seized and searched. This was just as risky, but one of the only ways communication couldn't be tracked.

Snyder twisted in his seat and glanced at the clock. The second hand steadily ticked past, and still the doors didn't open to signal the return of his…whatever. Would Snyder consider Harding a partner? No, that was too intimate. Too close. He would drop Harding as quickly as Snyder was dropped by his closes workers.

The fact of the matter was, Harding was late. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. If Harding were a smart man, he would use this time to his advantage. If he were smart.

Snyder was smart. The smartest man in the room, no doubt. Even a puppet master needed to provide some slack to their leashes every once in a while. One quick yank and they'd remember who was boss.

* * *

 **A/N:** Now you've got a bit more into Snyder's background and how he is as not only a businessman but as a person. I think it's interesting that no matter what, he always looks to how he can exploit people for his own personal gain - Harding not exempt from it at all. You also get a brief look into cracks that are starting to form with Snyder as well.

-Rhuben


	13. Buffering

**Chapter 13**

"All I did was ask what time you would be home tonight. If that's such a hard question for you—"

"And I have told you _a_ _thousand times_ , that I don't know when I'll be home. You know how unpredictable the office can be."

"I don't care how the office is—"

"I don't care that you don't care!"

"Sam..."

"Ouch!" Colt gripped the top of his head where his bedroom door had collided with his skull. The baseball in his hand landed with a softened _thump_ on the carpeted floor, rolling away from him. With his fingertips, Colt massaged the lump before craning his neck to glare at his little brother. "Tum!"

Tum-Tum stood frozen in the door way, eyes wide. His mouth formed a tight O of surprise.

"Sorry," Tum-Tum apologized, stepping into the room. "The door was open." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Kind of." He shrugged. "So, I was just coming in…" Colt's glare intensified. "It's my room, too, you know."

"Believe me, I'm aware," Colt said.

Tum-Tum frowned. "Sorry."

"How many times I have told you not to barge in here?"

Tum-Tum looked at the door, he was still holding the door knob, and then down at his brother. "It's my room, too."

"You still knock." Colt pulled himself into a seated position, grabbing the abandoned baseball. He started tossing it back and forth between his hands.

"The door was open." His voice had suddenly taken on a slight whining tone.

"Jeez," Colt whispered. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he draped his arms over his knees and bowed his head. Then he turned and peered at his brother over his shoulder.

"Sorry." He tilted his head to the side. His nose wrinkled, eyebrows furrowing. "Did you need privacy or something?"

Colt rolled his eyes before he closed them. He scoffed. In short, yes. He was getting older, of course he wanted privacy. Of course, he wanted just five minutes without his brother around in his face and in his space. As much as he wanted it, he did however notice the look on his brother's face. He couldn't ignore that as much as he wanted to.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning around to face Tum-Tum. He didn't remove himself from his seated position on the floor.

"Were you listening?" Tum-Tum asked.

A sarcastic answer was poised on Colt's lips, but he forced them back, using his tongue to pull his bottom lip into his mouth. Tum-Tum did look up to Rocky, but it was Colt he went to the most. Even with what Colt could deem "silly little problems," Tum-Tum had been asking him for his opinion more and more. Hadn't he done the same to Rocky?

Colt made a face. His problems weren't little or silly. Still, Rocky would always drop whatever he was doing to listen to him. On numerous occasions Colt could see the frustration or annoyance at whatever was bothering Rocky disappear from his eyes the moment Colt said, "Can I talk to you for a sec?" Even if his answer was "No," he would give Colt his full attention. It was only fair he did the same to Tum-Tum.

Besides, that look on his face made him take pause for a reason.

"I always listen," Colt finally answered.

"Oh." Tum-Tum shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"What?" Colt asked, his eyebrows lifting.

"Nothing."

"Really, Tum?" Colt tilted his head to the side. He didn't bother to move the hair that fell across his face. "You nearly split my head open for nothing?"

"Why were you lying on the floor, anyway?" Tum-Tum asked.

Colt made a clicking sound with his mouth, holding back a smile. It wasn't that surprising when really thought about. Truth be told, it was a habit that found itself to be hard to break.

Back in his previous two homes, he had done the same sort of thing. His mom and dad would always end their night, talking. Colt assumed it was a way to connect after a long day apart, but it was also a good time for Colt to listen in. Rocky and Tum-Tum had both joined him a time or two, crouched down on the stairs, or even just laying flat out in the middle of the hallway. Just listening. Tum-Tum usually fell asleep in the middle of the floor, too, to be carried to bed by himself or Rocky.

Even at his grandpa's cabin he would lay just at the top of the stairs leading to the loft listening to his grandpa on the phone. Sure, it was always one-sided conversations, but he could at least piece together if it was anything he needed to know (or felt he needed to know) or if it was about him. It wasn't too uncommon to have "reports" of his behavior sent home as he grew up.

Rocky was the first to stop listening in. As he grew older, the took the approach of waiting to be told what he was meant to hear. The more mature, the more responsible approach as he was often reminded. Colt still fed him information on what he heard, anyway. At least when he was sure Rocky would listen, and not just huff in annoyance. Still, Colt knew he was Rocky was the oldest, and usually knew how to handle different situations. If he said something wasn't to be worried about, Colt didn't worry.

For the most part.

He didn't _always_ agree with Rocky's methods.

Tum-Tum just got bored quickly, always wanting to be doing something. If he wasn't in on a plan, or things weren't moving too quickly for him, he would just wander off and entertain himself until things looked exciting. He was never too far from the center of the action, not wanting to be left out. He was at that fine line of growing up and wanting to be more independent, and still not wanting to be left behind by his older brothers.

"They'd see me at the stairs if I didn't move fast enough," Colt replied. He had been caught enough times that way. Still. Him? Not move fast enough? His name was Colt for a reason. Speed was one of his fortes. "The door was at least to let mom know I was awake." Tum-Tum nodded. "Speaking of which, what time did you finally get to sleep last night?"

Tum-Tum pulled his mouth to the side. "I don't know," he replied with a shrug after a moment of thought.

"Well," Colt rubbed at one eye, "your phone light was blinding. Can you at least bring the brightness of your phone down if you're going to be on it all night?"

"Ok." Tum-Tum shrugged again.

"Did you manage to get your phone back downstairs at least?"

"I was trying," Tum-Tum replied, "but mom and dad are _both_ down there." Colt made another clicking sound with his tongue. Sam wasn't always at home whenever the boys got ready for school. He could admit his parents worked well as a team when it came to keeping track of things inside the house. Individually, there were things they could get past Sam and Jessica; things the boys had sworn they'd keep a secret for the rest of their lives. But when they were together, it was harder. One was the ears, one was the eyes. Good Cop and Bad Cop right inside their home. "Figured I could slip it back when I was eating breakfast, but then they started arguing again."

Colt pulled himself to his feet. "Gotcha," he replied. He crossed the room to his desk and set the baseball down before turning back to his brother, holding out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll put it back."

"If you get caught, dad will be mad," Tum-Tum said.

"He's always mad at me." Colt wiggled his fingers. "What else is new?" Tum-Tum reached into his jeans pocket for his phone, slapping it into his brother's palm. "Are you going to school with me or Rock today?"

"Rock doesn't have to be there until second period today," Tum-Tum replied. Colt stared at him. "Remember? If seniors have a free period at the beginning of the day, they don't need to be there until their first class." His face scrunched up as he yawned. "Wish I could do that."

"You and me, both," Colt agreed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "You're young, you'll bounce back."

Tum-Tum smiled devilishly. He dropped his shoulder and Colt's hand slid off him. He then put his own hand on Colt's shoulder, patting him. "And you old folks won't. Too bad they don't have afternoon naps like they used to." He then prodded Colt in the cheek. "Your ugly mug could use it."

"Ha, ha." Colt rolled his eyes before stepping into the hallway. "Just know I would sleep peacefully with the thought that I could get rid of me at any moment." He threw Tum-Tum's phone into the air and caught it in his hand, pointing it at his little brother. "Just get ready for school."

"Yeah, yeah." Colt started down the stairs, stopping when he heard his door swing open behind him. "See if you can get an apple or something for me while you're down there."

Rolling his eyes for a second time, Colt made his way down the stairs and onto the first floor of the house. His parents were no longer arguing, but that didn't bring him much comfort. There was a sort of tense stillness in the air. Like something was about to happen. Sooner or later, someone or something was going to crack, and everything would burst outwards. A feeling he was all too familiar with.

He had first experienced it during a temporary stall in a sparring match. Whether he was against Rocky, Tum-Tum, or even his own grandfather, when both fighters waited to see what the other was going to do first, it put your whole body on edge.

Then, he felt it again, waiting to see what was going to happen when Snyder and his goons showed up at the cabin, just watching them.

Colt didn't know anyone that wouldn't feel some sort of rage after being beaned with a baseball on purpose – that fight between trying to calm down and the urge to pulverize Darren was a tough one.

And there was nothing like having a gun pointed in your face knowing you only had a second to decide whether you were going to be shot or attempt to thwart it with the only ninja ball he had.

Staring into the headlights of a truck with its engine revving, too blinded to really see just how many men there were ready to take Jo's home by force.

Groping through an underground tunnel in the dark with ninjas who had swords and other weapons, all reacting purely on instinct.

Any encounter with Darren and Darryl, wondering if it was going to be their words or their fists he had to deal with.

It was kind of second nature to him now. More of a subconscious thing. Still, that feeling, the way his hair stood up on his arms, just the feeling that something was off, always made him stop in his tracks. Made his heartbeat speed up, preparing himself for the adrenaline rush that was bound to course through him at any moment. At least, until he could figure out where the threat was coming from.

More and more often, it was in his home. And it sucked to feel like he had to be on edge more and more often.

Still, Colt found himself tip-toeing as quickly, and quietly as he could into the living room to the group of phones sitting on the coffee table. Pulses of light indicated all the messages and notifications missed overnight; Rocky's phone encased in a thick hunter green phone case was turned off. Colt's in a thinner dark blue case, with a few cracks on the screen, pulsing a red light indicating an almost dead battery. Removing the case around Tum-Tum's phone he dumped out any loose crumbs and proceeded to wrap the three parts in his shirt. He used his shirt covered hands to wipe out any dirt or food bits that may have accumulated before putting it all back together, setting it down on the counter. He only noticed his dad's personal and work phones (caseless, green lights indicating a full charge) beside the empty spot where his mom's phone would have been a moment too late.

"You know what your mother and I say about phones in your rooms at night," Sam said, walking up behind Colt to grab his own cell phones.

"Not to," Colt replied. "Come on, dad. That rule is kind of stupid. Everyone has a phone, now."

"And soon people will be born with one attached to their hand," Sam commented. He made a noise in the back of his throat. "With how many baby photos your mom and I are sent, they're certainly getting used to having them around."

In that moment, Colt was happy that social media wasn't around when he or his brothers were babies. He liked looking back through photo albums occasionally. He didn't want to know what it would be like to grow up knowing they were online everywhere for everyone to see. He already could barely live down the embarrassing stories and memories that were repeated out of love. The reminder that everything stayed on the internet hung over his head with just the thought.

"Even mom has to use social media for work," Colt reminded him. It had taken himself, Rocky, and Tum-Tum a bit to have her understand the nuances of using a hashtag. She caught onto it a whole lot faster than Sam had – though his excuse was solid; he didn't want or need to use social media. Even now, he didn't even have a Facebook profile.

"It impedes your sleep, and your eye health," Sam said.

"Tell that to Rocky," Colt said with a sigh, "I'm not the one with glasses."

"No, you're just the one I have to speak with on numerous occasions about your temper," Sam said. Colt pressed his lips together, lifting his eyebrows. He was smart enough not to say anything in response. "Lack of sleep affects your mood. And I bet you would have ended up far better in that fight against those two kids at school."

Colt blinked in surprise then gazed upon his father's profile. "How'd you know about that?" Colt had quickly learned over the years to just get to the point of whatever issue was at hand. Once it was brought up, anyway. Delaying the conversation only prolonged the inevitable punishment he was going to get.

"Because I'm your dad," Sam replied, "and it's my job to know what you're up to when I'm not around. What have I told you about fighting?"

"Come on—"

"No." Sam turned to face his son. "You come on, Jeffery. The school year has barely started and you're already getting into fights?"

" _A_ fight," Colt corrected him, "not multiple. And as far as I'm concerned this _one fight_ has just been lasting for years." He twisted his mouth to the side. "And I was doing fine in that fight until someone called the police." Sam hadn't brought up anything about his brothers being there, so he wasn't going to throw them under the bus, either.

"If you two keep going back and forth at each other, it's never going to reach a conclusion," Sam reminded him. "One of you needs to be the bigger man and just bring this to an end."

"And that has to be me, right?" Colt asked.

"I would hope so." Sam turned on his phones and slid them into the pockets of his suit. "I've taught you better than this. Fighting doesn't solve your problems."

"Yeah, well, talking doesn't solve them either."

"Jefferey.

"Whatever ideas you've gotten from your parenting book," Colt said, "or those family help columns in the paper doesn't work anymore, dad. I've tried ignoring it. Believe it or not, I've tried talking it out. I've tried telling teachers. Hell, I've even tried telling you. Do you want to know what that's gotten me this whole time?"

"What?"

"People telling me that _I'm_ the one that has to change," Colt said. "Have you ever stopped to think it's really not me that's the problem?"

"If you keep immediately responding with your fists, you're not being part of the answer, either," Sam replied. "I know your grandfather taught you better than that. Hasn't he taught you that martial arts are only supposed to be used for defense?"

"Except when I try to defend myself, you have a problem with it." Colt closed his eyes. "Don't quote grandpa to me, dad," he said, scratching at his eyebrow with his hand. "You don't get it. You never have."

He also didn't understand the tightening in his stomach suddenly. He thought he had left it back up at his grandpa's cabin. He had a good time spending the weekend in the mountains, just like he always had. Even if he did lose that stupid match against Rocky, whom was smart enough to know not to rub it in. Though, Colt had promised not to be bitter about it.

At least not out loud.

Still, he had been feeling his stomach tighten on and off while they spent time with Mori. Especially whenever Snyder's name had come up. And with more about him that they had learned. How could he have ever believed that his own grandfather could have been a part of Snyder's plan? That his own grandfather could have "sold them out?"

 _And you've never apologized for it, either_. The thought had suddenly slammed into his head and all he wanted to do was get it out.

"Now, wait just a minute, Jeffery. That's not fair."

"And blaming me for everything is?"

"I don't blame you for everything."

"Yes, you do!"

"Boys, don't forget your lunch today." Jessica's voice came through the house. The sound of her heels on the floor, and the clacking of her keys hitting each other pinpointed her location as she moved around the house. "Tum-Tum, I've packed you double."

"Thanks, mom!" Tum-Tum shouted from the stairs.

"Sam, you've got to go, or you'll be late. I have a meeting this morning, I have to head out, too."

"Coming," Sam said. "We'll finish this conversation later, Jeffery." He put his hand on Colt's shoulder and let out a sigh. "Just, try and have a good day at school, ok? You can tell me all about it, later."

"Yeah, ok." Colt grabbed his own phone, moving to plug it in. "Have a boring day at work." Out of the corner of his eye, Colt could see his dad pause and he ventured a half smile at him over his shoulder. Sam even managed a chuckle of amusement before he gathered his belongings and headed to the front door.

As much of a tactic it was to diffuse the situation with a joke, because Colt knew his dad would keep his promise and finish the conversation later. When the opportunity to have behavior changed came up, especially regarding his behavior at school, Sam would make sure it was discussed. Usually through a game of catch; what better way to let out frustrations then to exhaust yourself with physical activity?

There were too many times where he would return home from work in the middle of some sort of fight. Rocky and Colt. Colt and Tum-Tum. Rocky and Tum-Tum. Any of them and their mom. It didn't matter what it was, he would instantly make a beeline for the noise.

Colt remembered one instance specifically. He had waited all day for his dad to come home to show him the back handspring he had finally landed. But Sam had just walked past him to confront Rocky and Tum-Tum for their loud argument, promising him time to show him his "new trick." Tum-Tum had gone into Rocky's personal belongings without permission and it resulted in a fight; a little more serious than the general roughhousing.

Like every other fight, their mom would sit them at the kitchen table and give them time to tell their sides. Whomever wasn't in the argument would be asked if they had seen what had occurred or heard anything. Jessica would make sure everyone got their chance to talk, and she would be calm, and quiet, and listen. In comparison, Sam would demand answers.

"What is all this shouting about?" he had asked, heading into the kitchen. "The first thing I hear walking into the house?"

"It's handled, Sam," Jessica would reassure him, "don't worry about it." She always said it in a tired voice. She would massage her temples, push her fingers back through her hair, and ask him to just go and take time to wind down after work. After which he would put a quick end to the fight.

He never did give Colt the time to show him his back handspring that evening.

"Jeffery?"

"Yeah, dad?" Colt had put his attention to his phone, but he removed his gaze from the notifications he was scrolling through when his name was called. He peered curiously at his dad. "What's up?"

"I am proud that you know how to take care of yourself," Sam said after a quick clear of his throat. "I just worry that one day you'll get yourself into trouble you won't know how to get yourself out of. Even with all your ninja training. I just worry about you, that's all."

"I know, dad," Colt said. He allowed himself to smile. "I guess I give you good enough reason to." How was that for accepting responsibility? Parents. Sometimes, it was just easier to let them hear what they wanted.

Sam laughed through his nose. He lifted his hand in the air in farewell before stepping out the door.

After a few silent minutes sitting on the arm of the couch looking through his social media and e-mails, Colt moved through the kitchen and grabbed the bags of lunch before making a beeline upstairs. He briefly stopped in the hallway, looking over at Rocky's closed door. Even when he went into school late, he was usually up and doing _something._ Now, his door was closed.

"See?" Colt said, pushing their bedroom door open, shoving the two bags of lunch that belonged to Tum-Tum into his chest. "Dad won't say a thing. Are you ready for school?"

"Are you ok?" Tum-Tum asked.

"I'm fine, Tum. Why?"

"You sounded mad with dad."

Colt shrugged. "That's just how we talk." He almost laughed at his own words.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Tum, I'm sure."

"But—"

"No more questions, ok?" Colt tossed his lunch bag onto his desk before crossing the room to his dresser. "If we talk any more, we're going to be late. I don't need that hanging over my head, too."

"Ok, ok." Tum-Tum then peered quizzically at his older brother.

" _What_?"

"Where's my apple?"

At Colt's glare, Tum-Tum's eyes widened, and he quickly gathered his belongings and rush out of the room. After a quick shower and change of clothes, Colt ran a comb through his wet hair, grabbed his soccer gear and headed for the stairs. His foot hovered over the top when Rocky's bedroom door opened and his hand stuck out into the hall, motioning for Colt to come inside.

"I'm sorry," Colt said sarcastically, "are you actually inviting me in?"

"Consider this the one and only time I actually want you in here," Rocky said, leaning out into the hall, a smirk on his face. "Don't get used to it. Hurry up, though." Dropping his bags to the floor, Colt swung his hair out of his face (hearing the gentle splatter of water droplets on the walls) and stepped into his brother's room. "And be quiet about it!"

"What's up?" Colt asked.

"Well, for one thing, I still want my room to be available to me when I come back from college," Rocky said, closing the door behind Colt.

"Sorry, man," Colt said with a grin, "I can't guarantee that." He rubbed his hands together. "I've already got plans for this room." He then crossed the room to Rocky's bed, lowering himself on to the mattress that creaked under his weight. "What's up?"

"I was thinking more about what mom, dad, and grandpa were saying about Snyder in grandpa's cabin," Rocky said. Colt swallowed, using the shifting of his seated position to hide massaging his stomach with his fist. "About how he was always around and stuff. And what Emily showed us about everything she could figure out about it."

"And? I hate to break it to you, Rocky," Colt said, "but I don't think grandpa and Snyder had each other on their holiday card mailing lists after all this time."

"Not anymore, I agree," Rocky said. "But, something else about it was starting to bother me."

"What?"

"Snyder didn't seem all that surprised to see us at the cabin," Rocky said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You, me, and Tum, I mean. And it's not like grandpa put up a front-page ad that he was retiring or anything."

Colt swallowed, licking his lips. He suddenly felt hot under his collar, under his arms. "You don't think he's been keeping tabs on grandpa this whole time, have you?" he asked. "On us?"

"I don't know," Rocky admitted. He then snorted, a hint of a smile on his face. "If that's the case, I feel sorry for the idiots he gave the job to. Which would be more embarrassing? Getting one-upped by three kids or an old man?" Colt laughed along with him. "Listen, you asked Riley and Rhuben to see if their dad would tell them anything about Snyder, right?"

"Right," Colt replied. He blinked. "Actually, I kind of forgot that I asked."

"Make sure you remember today," Rocky replied. "Meet me for lunch and we can go over what we figure out, ok?"

"What are you going to be doing?"

"I don't have to be at school until second period," Rocky said. Colt bobbed is head back and forth and waved his hand in the air, indicating that he wanted his brother to get on with it. "Looking through the photo albums at grandpa's made me think about checking through some things here."

Colt's eyebrows shot up. " _You're_ going to skip school?" he asked. "Just to look through some old photos? You? Samuel Douglas? Poster boy for being the perfect student?" Rocky made a face.

"I'm not skipping school," he protested. "I just don't need to be there during my free period. Plus, I figured it'd be the only chance any of us could get into dad's office to see if we could find anything else." Colt got to his feet and placed a hand on Rocky's forehead. Rocky pushed his hand away. "What are you doing?"

"You must be sick or something," Colt said. "Even when you have a free period at the start, you've never passed it up. You've always had to study for this, or meet with a teacher, or something." Rocky pursed his lips and Colt put his hands up defensively. "All right, all right, I'll do it. No problem."

"Thanks," Rocky said.

"Yeah, just don't kiss me or anything, it's not a big deal." Rocky landed a punch on Colt's shoulder and he backed away from his brother, laughing. "Want me to let Tum know what's going on, or…?"

"No," Rocky said, slowly shaking his head back and forth. "Not right now."

"What do you want me to tell him when he complains?" Colt asked. "Because you know he will."

"Just tell him I told you not to," Rocky said, waving his hand in the air. "He'll be fine. And if he wants to be mad at someone, he can be mad at me. I just don't think we should bring him in to too much before we even know what's up."

Colt slowly nodded his head. He wondered how Rocky could always do that. Make decisions so easily, knowing what the best choice of action was. Could see the consequences of each outcome in front of him, and still decide what to do. No matter the situation. He joked about how much life would be easier with Rocky gone, and he knew in some ways it would be, but at the same time, he didn't know exactly would it would be like. Rocky acted as a buffer just as much as Colt did. Maybe in a different way, though. In better ways.

"What _is_ up?" Colt asked. Rocky gave him a curious look. "I mean, all of a sudden, years later, someone comes forward about something Snyder did to them? It's weird."

"Hey, even new things are being uncovered about Harding's shady business dealings nowadays," Rocky said with a shrug of his shoulder. "We just can't be too comfortable, I guess." He then spread his arms out. "And, this could all be nothing, right?"

"Has it ever been?"

Rocky's lips twitched. "Just go to school."

"Admit it," Colt said with a hint of a smile, "there's nothing more exciting in life than trying to take down an evil corporation. What a way to end your high school career, right? I was starting to think things were getting pretty boring around here."

"Not boring enough."

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for how long it took to update this fic, guys. But here we are with a new update and chapter thirteen before the end of the year. Here we've got a look at how the Douglas dynamic works out in regards to how to navigate situations to ensure a good outcome - so to speak. Part of the opening bit with Colt and Tum-Tum was originally written into an incomplete one-shot, but I thought it worked well to put in here.

I'm going to go back and add chapter titles a bit later on; just need to think of some. This one came easily.

Thanks for reading.

-Rhuben


	14. Practice Test

**Chapter 14**

* * *

"Are you sure you're ok?"

Tum-Tum blinked against the sunlight as he turned back towards Colt. "Yeah," he replied with a nod and a shrug, continuing his pace towards the school. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know." Slamming the door shut to the driver's side of his truck, Colt stepped up to the truck bed. He set his arms on the side, putting his chin to his hands. "Maybe because we're at school, and you don't have your backpack."

Tum-Tum immediately started slapping at his shoulders. He spun in a circle and upon not finding his back empty, a frown of confusion came to his face. Colt rolled his eyes, watching his brother. "I had it," he said, scratching the back of his head. He made a face. "I know I had it in the house."

"You have it here, too, spaz." Colt reached into the truck bed and lifted Tum-Tum's backpack out of it. "Just not in its usual place."

"Oh." Frown deepening, Tum-Tum stepped up onto the wheel on the opposite side of the truck bed and reached over the gap to grab his backpack. "Thanks." He then managed a teasing smile. "Not like I lost it while it was on my back."

Colt rolled his eyes and let out a weak, "Mmhmm." Retrieving his soccer bag, he pulled the strap over his shoulder and checked to make sure the doors to his truck were locked. The weight of his bags unbalanced him with each turn before he shifted it back around his shoulder. "Let me know what you're doing after school ok? Staying with me, going home with mom or Rock, or whatever."

"Yeah, no problem," Tum-Tum said with a yawn.

"When does wrestling start for you, again?"

"After Homecoming," Tum-Tum replied. He twisted his mouth to the side. "The team is announced at the Pep Rally. Try outs are coming up." He started biting down on his lower lip. "And then we have team pictures."

"Oh yeah, we should be getting uniforms soon," Colt said more to himself. "Is that what's bothering you? You don't think you'll make the team?" Tum-Tum didn't immediately answer, and Colt let out a huff of annoyance. Why couldn't everyone just say what was on their mind? Sure, he occasionally had people reminding him that his delivery could be better, but things were just easier when he everything was out in the open. He put his arm around Tum-Tum's shoulder, gently shaking him. "Come on, Tum. What's going on?"

"I've seen you and Rock agonize over asking people to Homecoming," Tum-Tum said. "I don't know how to ask Amy."

Colt blinked, taken aback for a moment at the sudden change in topic. Then, he made a face at the insinuation. "Rock and I didn't _agonize_ over anything," Colt said. "Just ask a girl and take her. The only issue Rock had was trying to dodge all the hints Emily gave him about wanting to go with him." He snorted. "I mean, I knew the guy was flexible, but jeez. He was really getting a work out with that."

Tum-Tum laughed. "So, I just ask?"

"It won't hurt," Colt said with a shrug. "You two have been in the same class for years." He lifted a finger in the air. "Just don't make it too flashy; puts too much pressure on the girl. And don't do it over social media; that's too impersonal." Tum-Tum started frowning again, muttering something about, "too many rules." Colt chuckled. "When did you start liking her, anyway?"

Making a face, Tum-Tum wiggled out from underneath Colt's grip, face turning red. Colt smiled to himself. One minute, Tum-Tum could be asking him what emojis in certain order meant from a girl, but the next second, he didn't want to talk about it. Not that Colt could really blame him. They barely ever talk to their parents about which girls they like, let alone with each other.

Teasing was easier, almost a natural reaction, and it kept the conversation light. Even the embarrassment of flying over the handle bars of his own bike had made Colt asking Rocky about Jo that much easier, in an instant-karma kind of way. It took his attention away from worrying about what his brother's answer could have been. (Rocky had said he didn't really like Jo in that way at the time, but even he could be hard to read at times.) Colt wasn't exactly lacking in the girl department – his mom always told him that girls had their eyes on him – it was just that for a long while he wasn't at the stage of looking back.

He and Amy had always been in the same class and she had come over to their house for play dates numerous times as they grew up. Then, like most boys, Tum-Tum fell into wanting to hang out with his guy friends, and explore the neighborhood, and play video games. Her name didn't come up that often anymore unless she was around for whatever anecdote he had about school involved her. Recently though, it was clear, that Tum-Tum's view on girls was changing. Now Tum-Tum was seeming to get it, despite everything he had teased his brothers about.

Colt had gone through the same thing. And he hated seeing the smug smile on Rocky's face when he was proven right. How often had he heard Rocky mysteriously say, "You'll change your tune one day," whenever the topic of girls came up?

"I don't know," Tum-Tum finally mumble-replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I just do." He gripped the straps to his backpack, looking around the parking lot and front lawn of the school. "She's really nice. And she likes video games."

"A girl after your own heart," Colt laughed. "You're a very simple man, aren't you?" He laughed harder when Tum-Tum made a face and shoved Colt away from him. He put his hands up defensively. "Relax. I'm kidding."

"The guys in my class keep talking about how I have to make a big show about asking someone to the dance," Tum-Tum said.

"Oh, right," Colt said, a hand flying up to slap himself on the forehead. "Hocosals. How'd I forget about that?" He quickly spun to the side, dodging hitting Tum-Tum, who suddenly stopped walking, with his bag.

"Hoco…"

"Hocosal," Colt said with a roll of his eyes. "Homecoming proposal. That's what you're talking about." He lifted his hands into the air and drew a square in front of him. "Guys that make signs and big displays and stuff to ask girls to Homecoming or Prom. That kind of thing. I never saw the point in it."

"Yeah, well," Tum-Tum kicked at the ground, starting to walk again, "you never had a date to the dance so…"

"I don't dance," Colt protested with a groan.

Enough girls had asked him to school dances over the years, and he was flattered to be thought about enough to be asked. But, unless he was seeing someone at the time, he didn't ever really accept an invitation to the dance. Sure, he'd attend, if not for a while, but he wasn't much of a dancer. It was a nice night away from the house to spend with friends, though.

Rocky would typically head to Jason's afterwards for what would be a great after-party. Through Rocky, Colt usually had a standing invite to Jason's parties. Though they were intended to be for his grade-level only (and Colt was sure Rocky got great pleasure out of reminding him it was "Seniors-Only"), they usually tended to become "open to the public" after a while. Either way, everyone knew that Jasons's parties always meant a good time was to be had.

"You really think that's going to stop anyone from asking you to Homecoming?" Brett asked, shuffling up to the two of them. He was also laden down with bags; his backpack, his laptop case, and his soccer bag. Colt just shrugged in response to Brett's question. Brett then turned his attention to Tum-Tum. "If you're that worried, I might have a way to help you out."

"How?" Tum-Tum asked.

Brett lifted his hand to push up his glasses before using his thumb and pinky to indicate between Colt and Tum-Tum. "Ok, you guys can't tell anyone else, this, ok?" he said. "It'll be announced soon, but still." Colt nodded and Tum-Tum's eyes lit up as he nodded vigorously.

"Tum, you're terrible at keeping secrets," Colt pointed out.

"No, I'm not," Tum-Tum protested. Colt pressed his lips together, lifting an eyebrow. "I just get excited, that's all."

"What is it, B?" Colt asked with a shake of his head in response to his brother's declaration.

"I've been helping the school create a matching app for the Homecoming dance," Brett replied. "You just fill out a quiz, and later get matched with the top five people that match your answers closest. Then you can pick if you want to take any of them to the dance. Or you can just take the quiz for fun."

"So…." A smile slowly spread across Colt's face and he slapped Brett on the shoulder, "B here could match you up with Amy." He wiggled his fingers in the air. "Hack the code or whatever to make sure you get certain results."

"I could," Brett agreed, slowly nodding, "but I'm not going to."

"Oh, come on, it could be fun," Colt said with a grin. "People would be freaking out over who they'd get matched with. The girls would, anyway, I guess." He pulled his lips to the side. "I don't get girls."

"Jo, Amanda, Maggie, Roxanne, Shelby, Emma," Brett said counting off on his fingers. "You don't have a problem getting girls."

"Funny." Colt made a face, letting out a sigh through his nose. There was nothing wrong with seeing different girls to see if he had any sort of connection with them. It wasn't like he dated them all at one time. He was upfront about whether he felt things were working out and let the girls down gently. And, jeeze, for a while it seemed like Rocky had a new girlfriend every summer. Why was it ok for him but such a big deal when it came to Colt? "Besides, I didn't date Amanda. She just liked me."

"Someone had to when you went through that terrible mullet-ponytail phase," Brett said with a smirk. Tum-Tum tilted his head back and howled with laughter.

"Don't remind me," Colt said, putting a hand to his face. "Please. Please, don't." He didn't know why he thought that was such a good idea. It did keep him cooler in the summer compared to the bowl cut style he stuck with for a while. And it was a cooler hairstyle than the near shoulder length locs he was working now. But that dang ponytail kept hitting him in the eye and the side of the face every time he turned. Man, it took ages for his hair to grow back after he cut it off.

"Oh, I've got pictures," Brett said with a grin. He adjusted the bags on his shoulders, "And I'm not getting rid of them any time soon."

Pictures.

Colt's steps slowed.

 _Rocky can't be staying home just to look at pictures_ , he thought to himself, _because then he would have had to tell mom he was planning on staying home first period._ Like he had said flat out, Rocky had never skipped school, even when he had the senior privilege to use a first period block of free time to do so. _So, he doesn't want mom to know._ And if mom didn't know, he quickly concluded, then their dad didn't know either.

 _And why wouldn't he want dad to know?_ That was an easier answer: their father's office always had been and always would be off limits without permission. Everyone knew that if they could see Sam's shadow pacing back and forth in front of the light under the door, he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Still, only work-related things were in his office. Apart from the occasional university memorabilia, awards from work, and framed photos of the family - some photos Colt wished would never see the light of day - it was otherwise strictly just a workspace. After how easy it was for them to gain access to Snyder's file, or at least partial file, he had gotten a reprimand at work. At least, Colt had pieced that together in a quick pass by the kitchen late one night shortly after their kidnapping. It was not a conversation to listen in on, that was for sure.

Still, his mind went back to the pictures. He still couldn't believe he had been in his grandpa's cabin for so many years, and never noticed that stupid hand in the background of that stupid picture. Wetting his lips with his tongue, Colt lifted his hands and pushed his fingers into his hair, scratching at his hairline. They had _just_ gone through more pictures, and all he was focused on his parents' lives before he was born. He had a second chance to get a look into his parents' lives, and a second chance to blow it as the case may have been.

Still, what was it that Rocky thought he could find at home?

"Come on, dude, I wouldn't actually do that to you," Brett said in response to Colt's silence. "Not without a lot of thought, anyway."

"Ha." Colt snapped out of his thoughts. "Just remember who it was that covered for you when you nearly burnt your house down with those sparklers."

Brett swung out his hand, catching Colt in the chest with the back of his hand. He then jabbed his friend in the chest. "Last I checked, it was your idea to try and take our parkouring to the next level. A burning ring of fire usually livens things up, right?"

"You didn't have to listen to me," Colt protested, albeit with a grin.

"Yes, I did." Colt already knew Brett's response before he even said it. It was always the same. Despite all of Colt's outbursts, or what anyone else would just consider nonsense, Brett always stuck around. He not only had a lot of patience regarding Colt's affinity for acting or speaking without thinking, but he always seemed ready to get in trouble alongside him, even after his attempts to talk Colt down and to explain why he was in the wrong. "You think you would've been able to talk your way out of that without some back up?" His eyes then flashed mischievously behind his glasses. "Besides, we wouldn't have gotten caught if I had done a better job of cleaning the smoke damage off the side of the house."

"Or if we didn't find the charcoal fluid in the first place," Colt said, scratching the back of his head. Brett scoffed in agreement. "I don't know how we thought your parents wouldn't notice a giant bleach spot on the side of your house."

"Yeah, well, _one of us_ has never been much of a forward thinker," Brett said, shoving Colt on the shoulder. "Or a thinker at all."

"Ok, ok." Colt put his hands up defensively. "There are a lot of situations I should have thought through more, I'll admit." _Like telling dad about Snyder in the first place._ He could only use the excuse that he was a kid for so long, he supposed. He and Rocky had planned on telling their dad that next morning, but he had gone off to work. And then Colt found that their dad was threatening to stop their ninja training, and it just left his mind. Plus, there was no way he would have ever had any reason to think those three buffoons that broke into his house that night would have anything to do with Hugo Snyder. Snyder was a genius compared to them.

Growling under his breath, Colt shook his head back and forth in a sharp gesture. That man was infiltrating his life way too often lately. Snyder was behind bars for crying out loud. Nothing was going on. The failed martial arts business, whatever hang ups he had with his parents, that was all in the past. All he ever had to do was talk about the guy during therapy and then he could pretend like the guy never existed for the rest of his life.

 _Can you really do that?_ Colt reasoned with himself. _Can you really do that knowing that he's been a bigger part of your family's life than you thought?_ And it sounded like he may have something to do with the new kids, too. And who was he to sit by and let things happen? Hell, he barely knew Jo, or Miyo before he found himself in the middle of a situation, looking back on, they got way in over their heads in without a second thought. Why should the new kids be any different?

Not that it mattered to anyone else. To them, he was one of _the_ 3 Ninjas. Some kids in school over the years had sought him and his brothers out to try and help them fix a problem they were in. And how many people had he defended from Darren and Darryl without a second thought? He may as well have the word "trouble" tattooed somewhere on his body, it was bound to come around sooner or later.

"Dude." Brett grabbed his arm and Colt gazed at him curiously before following the tilt of his friend's head. Gazing across the front lawn of the school, Colt's eyes landed on a very tense Tum-Tum; muscles taught, hands clenched, lips pressed tightly together, face turning a bright red as he shouted something to the backs of Darren and Darryl.

"Man, what now?" Colt asked. Pulling his arm from Brett's grasp, he shifted the straps to his bags up his shoulder and doubled his pace across the school yard. Brett rushed after him.

"Hey!" Tum-Tum shouted at Darren and Darryl's backs. "I said pick up her books."

Darren made a show of swinging around to face Tum-Tum, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. He peered down his nose at Tum-Tum and Amy. "Naw, I'm good." he replied.

"It's fine," Amy said, tucking her hair back behind her ear before reaching for her nearest book. Tum-Tum threw out his arm, stopping her, eyes transfixed on Darren and Darryl.

"I said pick them up," Tum-Tum repeated quietly. "You made her drop them, you pick them up."

"Oh, you see I would," Darryl said, stepping forward, miming innocence, "but I don't want to." He started kicking the binders and textbooks across the ground. "Look at that, they're just so slippery—" Tum-Tum rushed forward, slamming his hands into Darryl's chest shoving him backwards. Darren jumped forward, grabbing Tum-Tum in a headlock.

"Hey." Colt dropped his bags to the ground and moved towards his brother, but for a second time, Brett grabbed his arm. "What…?"

"Let him handle it," Brett said, his eyes trained on Tum-Tum. He then looked over at Colt. "He can handle this. You'll only make it worse." Colt scoffed. Brett tightened his grip on Colt's elbow. "Give him a chance, Colt." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tum-Tum quickly slipped out from Darryl's grip and twisted his arm behind his back, using his other hand to force his head down towards the ground. "See?"

"Pick up her damn books," Tum-Tum shouted in Darren's ear. "Now!" He shoved Darren forward and he stumbled forward a few steps before he caught his balance. He lifted an eyebrow in Darryl's direction. "You, too. Pick them up."

"Pick them up yourself," Darryl replied, "dweeb." He tried to put as much bravado into his voice, but still his dark skin flushed a bright red. Whether it was through embarrassment or anger, Colt wasn't entirely sure. Still, he stepped forward and shoved Tum-Tum hard in the chest. He stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance, but Patrick and Noah stepped out of the growing circle of spectators to catch him, and to stop him from charging at the two bullies again.

The group of students quickly dispersed, recognizing that there wasn't going to be much of a fight. Darren and Darryl left without another word. Tum-Tum muttered under his breath, adjusting his shirt.

"I got it," Noah said to Amy, moving to pick up the scattered books. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Amy said, taking her books from him. Cradling them against her chest, she put one hand to his shoulder. "And thank you, Tum-Tum. You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"Those jerks can't just push around anyone they want," Tum-Tum protested. "You didn't do anything to deserve that." He then looked over at Amy and his expression instantly softened. "I can walk you to class if you want. Not that you can't handle it or anything."

"See?" Brett said to Colt. "He's got it covered."

"I wouldn't have done anything different," Colt protested, bending to pick up his dropped bags. He swung his hair out of his face, gazing up at his best friend. "How would I have made it worse?"

"Because you wouldn't have given Tum even an iota of a chance to handle things himself," Brett replied. Colt snorted, pulling his mouth to the side. "Come on, dude. You and Rock have been doing everything for Tum for as long as I can remember." He shrugged his shoulders. "You hate it whenever Rocky doesn't give you a chance to handle things on your own. Tum's bound to feel the same way at times."

Colt let out a weak "whatever," in response. Brett was right. As usual. He hated it whenever Rocky acted like he was his boss, or even worse, like grandpa. But Tum never had the same amount of pressure put on him that Colt had experienced all his life. He wasn't constantly being compared to Rocky. Being told that it would be better if he acted like his older brother and was more responsible and focused on his studies. But wasn't keeping his baby brother out of fights the responsible thing to do?

"Yeah, well," Colt said, "he's just shown he can take care of himself."

"I've never seen him like that before, though," Brett commented. "Tum's never raised his voice at anyone. Ever." He lifted his eyebrows. "Heck, it was almost like watching you handle the situation."

"True." Colt slowly nodded. Tum-Tum could get annoyed or frustrated, but even Colt had never seen Tum-Tum actually angry before. And he wondered what it was that suddenly had his fuse so short. Colt let out a low whistle. "Darren and Darryl just got lucky. Tum could bend them into a pretzel before they know what's happening." He made a face, shaking his head. "I would know." He still couldn't believe Tum-Tum had even beat him play fighting the other evening.

"If Tum can beat you once, don't you think it's proof he can handle himself?" Brett asked. " _And_ he's never backed down whenever Darren and Darryl sought you out for a fight. Remember, before Miyo handed their asses to them, he volunteered himself to fight Darren."

"You know Darren and Darryl as well as I do," Colt said. "Once they target someone, they won't let up on them. Pushing Amy's books out of her arms is small potatoes compared to what they could do."

"And maybe that's all they'll do." Brett shrugged. "The school year has barely started. They've got the rest of the year to be jerks. Don't seek out a fight with them this early We've got bigger things to worry about then the two of them."

"Like what?" Colt asked.

"The PSATs for one thing," Brett replied as they started making their way towards their lockers. "We need to start preparing now. They're coming up real soon."

"You mean the Piss-SATs?" Colt asked with a grin, lifting an eyebrow.

"Cute," Brett said, clapping Colt on the shoulder. "It's that kind of attitude that'll have you pass with flying colors. Just remember, you can't use your phone's calculator." He wagged his finger in Colt's face. "You have to use a real one just like the rest of us."

"Ah, but not all of us can be a human calculator like you." Colt waved his hand in the air, batting the thought away. "You read questions and fill in the bubble to answer the question," Colt said. "What's so hard about that?"

"Just you wait," Brett said, making his way further down the locker bay to his own locker. "Next year is going to run you into the ground."

Colt merely hummed. He had this argument with his brother, and his dad, one too many times. There wasn't anything they could tell them he hadn't already heard a million times already: extra-curriculars were good padding for college applications; something that showed leadership would be a good boost; good grades and test scored would allow Admissions a reason to take a second look at your application; and blah, blah, blah.

People just put too much pressure on themselves to be the best at everything. Not that Colt wasn't the same way to some degree. He, clearly, was the better ninja out of himself and his brothers. And he was one of the better players on his soccer team. Anyone looking at him could tell he pushed himself to be at the level his dad wanted him to be on the baseball field. Yes, he was confident whenever and wherever he felt he could be, and yes, it sucked to fail at things you worked hard at.

But no matter what, he will always be Samuel Douglas's little brother. He wasn't going to be regarded as intelligent as his brother. Or as dependable. Or the model student type. The type who could do no wrong. The type that everyone turned to the second someone needed to oversee a situation. To be the leader. To make sure everything turned out smoothly.

It was funny in a way. Everyone always talked highly about his brother, and Colt had witnessed him, on numerous occasions, become just as temperamental as him. If not more. Rocky could even rival their father with his anger. Whenever he got frustrated enough. During one of his games. God forbid his pitching streak gets broken by one skilled player, or he re-injures his shoulder trying to show off. One turn-over in possession on the basketball court and Colt could feel his brother's anger roll off him in waves from the bleachers.

But, no, it was always about how Colt couldn't control his own anger. How everything he did was wrong.

"The only good thing is that the PSAT means 3 hours free of other classes," Colt said, swinging his locker door open, shoving his bags inside.

"With all the free time they put into your schedule, you may as well skive off the rest of the day," Riley said as she and Rhuben stepped up to their lockers between the two boys.

"Why do they even make us go to class the rest of the day, anyway?" Rhuben asked.

"Skipping sounds like a plan to me," Colt commented.

"I hope you realize the second you said that," Brett called from his locker, "you pretty much sealed your fate."

Riley laughed, a brief smile coming to her lips. "Our mum would be right behind him," she said, popping open her locker door.

"Hell, she probably already knows about it," Rhuben commented, leaning against her own locker. "She's scary with how quickly she finds things out." Riley nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of," Colt said, using his hand to slam his locker door shut. He glanced over the twin girls' heads towards Brett who was looking through his planner to figure out what books he needed for which classes. He lowered his voice. "Did you ask your dad about Snyder?"

"We did," Riley replied with a nod.

"And?" Colt pressed.

"Not much to tell," Rhuben replied with a one-shoulder shrug. "Just that we moved out here because of his job, and he may have had his work stolen."

Colt's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you moved here because of the trouble you got into back home," he said.

"Reckon you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Riley said, looking him up and down. Colt shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You wanted us to ask, we asked."

"Yeah, I guess," Colt agreed. "Thanks."

"No worries." Rhuben waved her hand in the air. She then turned towards Riley and said. "I got to go, or I'll be late for concert band."

"Cool." Riley waved her hand. "See you later, then."

Colt's eyebrows shot up. "You're in band?" he asked.

Rhuben blinked. "You got a problem with that?" she asked, pulling her eyebrows towards each other.

"Just asking," Colt replied.

"First about our dad, now our hobbies," Riley commented, tilting her head to the side. "You're following the script of getting to know the new kids, mate, but I didn't really peg you as the type to care." She chuckled. "I mean, you practically ran out of my house the other night, first chance you got. Not that I blame you. Forcing people to get to know the new neighbors isn't my idea of fun, either."

"No, but winning a skateboard bet is fun," Colt said.

Riley's lips parted into a hint of a smile before she brushed a pigtail over her shoulder. "Still. You want to know all about my family, my parents' jobs, about my life back in Oz - most people here do, comes with the bloody territory of being new – but this 'getting to know you' thing is a two-way street. And, I reckon you haven't stopped to try and figure out the most important thing about me." Her smile widened, and her tone suddenly took on a layer of sweetness. One that only slightly hid the pointedness of her annoyance. "Like my name – which one I am."

"Uhhh." Colt blinked. Stalling. She was right, he didn't know which one he was talking to. And in that moment, didn't really care, either. He pulled his mouth to the side. It wasn't fair to her. How often did he have to field the "You're Sam's little brother, right?" questions all with a smile. Not to mention how many people talked to him just to try and get out of him details about his adventures taking down big businessmen. "You're uh…"

"That's what I thought." Riley moved to step past him. "See you in class." She turned around to face him, walking backwards. "I'm Riley, by the way. Reckon I should make some of this easy for you."

Colt let out a laugh. If there was something he had quickly learned, it wasn't that life wasn't fair, it was that his life wasn't easy.

* * *

"Sam."

Sam set down the framed photo and looked over at Jerry. "Sorry," he said, turning his chair to face his partner, "what were you saying? How can I help?"

Jerry's eyebrows came towards each other and he lifted a hand to run it over his mustache and beard. He then cracked a smile. "I was saying I remember when I had to sit across from your face every day," he said, "and now I have to visit you in an office."

Chuckling, Sam looked around his office, and then back at Jerry. "Surely it's a nice break from seeing my face every day," he replied.

"You deserve it, Sam," Jerry said. "You deserve all of this." He tapped his fingers on the arm rests of the chair he sat in across from Sam's desk. "Mitch has been worrying about you. "Are you sure you can do this?" Jerry asked. "Keep tabs on Snyder?"

Sam settled back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. Of course. His boss would send his partner to speak with him before taking on the task himself. "What does that mean?"

"I mean, we have a lot of different cases we're working on right now," Jerry replied. "Snyder's case is done. You may not see it that way, but it is."

Sam blinked. "You think my bias towards him is making me see things that aren't there."

"I think it was inevitable for you to really start looking into his case again," Jerry replied. "Mitch, too. I think that's why he hasn't officially taken you off it." Jerry put his hands up defensively. "I get it. You want to see what it was that you had missed. I'm just looking out for you, Sam. You know I have your back."

"Then you know that I can't just let this go," Sam replied. "I can't just act like it never happened."

"This guy screwed up your life for one night," Jerry replied. "It's bound to have left lasting effects, I know, but, don't let him take over the rest of your time on this Earth, man." He shook his head back and forth. "Because we both know in this line of work, we don't know how much time we've got."

"And we don't know when a case is truly over," Sam replied. Jerry hesitated for a moment, but slowly nodded his head. "Just because we put a lid on the box of Snyder's file doesn't mean we won't have a future reason to open it." Jerry let out a long sigh through his nose. "That we don't have a reason to open it now. He could be connected with someone else. We just don't know."

"Maybe it's better that we don't go looking for something that might not be there," Jerry said.

"The last time we did that, waited until all of the evidence was in front of us, my sons were kidnapped," Sam pointed out. Jerry opened and closed his mouth but didn't say a word. He was only on the periphery of what had happened that night – and Sam wouldn't want it any other way. He didn't want anyone else to experience the fear and uncertainty he had felt that night.

He could remember pulling up into his driveway that night and just feeling like something was off. Even before Jessica had shut off the car, an odd prickling feeling had rushed over his body. "Wait here," he had said tensely, cutting over whatever it was Jessica was saying at the time.

She instantly noticed his change in demeanor. "What is it?" she asked, tightly clutching the keys in the ignition. She hastily removed it from the ignition and scrambled to follow him out of the car. "Sam. What is it, Sam?"

"Just wait here, Jessica." He had removed his gun from his side holster, using his free hand to motion for her to stay where she was. His eyes shifted towards the open front door, and then back over to his wife. "Wait here. Something's wrong."

Sam could hear Jessica's footsteps rushing up behind him as he took long steps, as quietly as he could, up the front steps and into the house. He could just tell that something wasn't right. Before he saw the knocked over chair in front of the closet; before he saw the mess that was the living room and the kitchen; his own ties affixed to the banister; the CDs and jellybeans scattered all over the floor; he could just sense that his house wasn't safe anymore. That it was unbearably quiet, unsettlingly still.

"Oh, no, no," Jessica had moaned hurrying from room to room. "The boys! Where are the boys?" Sam was right behind her, running from room to room, calling her sons' names, praying that they were just too scared to come out of hiding. But they never got a response. "Not my boys. Not my boys."

Then his work-side had kicked in. Grabbing Jessica by the shoulders, he had led her out of house, away from the crime scene. Reminding her that they were mixing up all the evidence that could still be in the house. He had then called his co-workers, the local police, anyone that would get to his house and start the investigation as quickly as possible.

"Calm down. Calm down, Jessica," he had said over and over as more and more police cars filled their driveway. Red and blue lights had lit up the neighborhood, reflecting the worry and anxiousness held in his wife's eyes. "We'll find them. I promise, we'll find them. _I'll_ find them."

"My babies," Jessica had whimpered, "my babies. Who would do this? They're just boys."

Emily had given them some insight; handing them a note detailing what had happened to Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum and why. It had helped, but it also brought more questions from them all, especially her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Sergeant had started demanding answers from their daughter. Why had she been over at the Douglas house so late? Why would she sneak out? Was it the first time or had she been sneaking out to see Rocky for ages? Out of worry, and fear, one right after another, after another. Insinuating this. Questioning that. All the while, Emily's face grew more and more red. Embarrassment, of course. But, she was clearly, obviously upset. Tears clung to her eyelashes, that much Sam could make out in the moonlight as she turned away from himself and Jessica, a sharp " _Mom_ ," rolling off Emily's tongue.

"Emily, it's going to be ok," Sam had reassured her. Still, Emily had looked embarrassed, and did whatever she could not to look either set of parents in the eye. He had clutched the note given to him tightly in his hand. "We've got an idea of what's happening now. What's most important is that you're ok."

"Sweetie, we're just so glad you're not hurt," Jessica had added.

"But you should go and tell my friends, the nice cops over there, everything that you saw," Sam said gently. "It'll help us get the boys back safe and sound, ok?" Emily had nodded and was guided by her parents over to a group of police officers talking quietly amongst each other.

The rest of that night was essentially playing a game of chase with Snyder. He would give anything to hear his sons arguing at that point in time. To have it all just be a terrible game of hide and seek with the babysitter.

At the same time, Sam had found some comfort in knowing that his sons were all together. As much as they had gotten on each other's nerves, they were certainly all close with each other. Sam remembered how excited Rocky was to find out he was getting a little brother or sister. After Colt was born, he would proudly show off his brother to anyone who would give him a smidgen of attention. And Colt soaked up all that attention as the cute little brother, up until Tum-Tum came around. He wasn't exactly happy to hand over the title, but he did take the role of big brother seriously.

Despite how much they could annoy each other, mostly on purpose, Colt did look out for Tum-Tum. Growing up, Colt could be found sleeping on the floor in Tum-Tum's room, on occasion. Asking to have "sleepovers" was a usual occurrence in the house – until the boys got tired of being around each other all the time and wanted space.

Maybe, Sam thought, he really should think about Colt getting his own room. It was only fair; being the middle child wasn't easy and he did sacrifice a lot in that position. They all had to sacrifice a lot. All for his job. And it was his job that put them all in danger in the first place.

"They're ok now," Jerry reminded Sam. "Aren't they?"

"They are," Sam agreed. "Therapy has been going well. School's been going ok so far. Nothing I feel I really need to worry about."

"But then again, when do you stop worrying, right?" Jerry asked. Sam chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Let me tell you, one day without getting a call from school about Darryl's behavior, is a cause of celebration nowadays." He waved his hand in the air at Sam's look of concern. "I'm sorry things between our sons haven't been the greatest, but I'm trying."

"So am I," Sam replied. "I think as long as we keep trying things will be ok."

"Either that, or they'll eventually come to an understanding by beating the pulp out of each other," Jerry said, and Sam chuckled. "Remember when we could just handle our problems that way?" If only he could have handled whatever issues he had with Snyder like that back in the day? But, he wasn't that kind of guy. He preferred to handle situations with his words.

"That was before schools implemented their zero tolerance policies," Sam replied. "And before my kids started their ninja training. I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Neither do I," Jerry agreed. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. Sam copied his movement, moving forward to rest his arms on his desk. "If you really think Snyder is someone worth keeping an eye on after all these years, then I'll do everything I can to help. You've got me in your corner, Sam. If you need someone to listen to your theories, or to join you on following a lead. I'll be there. No questions asked. If it means keeping your family safe."

"No questions asked?" Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Ok, well, sometimes I have to make sure you're still in the right headspace," Jerry replied, "but that comes with the territory of being your partner. Besides, Jessica would kill me if I didn't look out for you." He gazed curiously at Sam. "How's she been doing with all of this?"

"We got into a fight this morning," Sam admitted. "We both agreed that we want to tell the boys about Snyder. How much we're allowed to say any way. She wanted to tell them as soon as possible, and I'm still thinking about how to go about telling them. Not to mention with how weird my hours are…" He wet his lips. "I just don't want the boys to think of us any differently after they hear some of these things."

"Your boys think the world of you and Jessica," Jerry said. "They know everything you do is just to protect them. Nothing could change their opinion of you."

"If there's anything I've learned over the years," Sam said, "it's that you never really know what people think of you."

* * *

 **A/N:** I've always wondered how Emily's parents would react to her being involved with the Douglas boys going missing, so you've got a little bit of a snippet of it here. I just always thought it was odd in the movie Emily just gave the note to Mrs. Douglas and then ran off. But they can only show so much in a movie.

Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience between updates. We'll be back with Snyder and his point of view on things in the next chapter.

-Rhuben


	15. The Oldest

**Chapter 15**

At lunch, Rocky barely looked up at Colt when he dropped into the seat across from him. He did, however, grab his jostled cup of juice when his brother extended his long legs and bumped the table beneath him. Over the years, Rocky barely noticed that Colt had grown to be taller than him, but when he did notice it, it kind of bothered him.

On the one hand, some people thought Colt was the oldest brother just because of his height (something that Colt would rub in his face every once in a while), and on the other hand, it had aided Colt with his martial arts (again, something Colt would rub in his face every once in a while). Still, he never stopped to think about how uncomfortable his brother may have been with his height, and how the world wasn't made for taller people. Though, he was reminded of it every time he had to readjust his driver's seat whenever Colt borrowed his car.

"What are you looking at?"

Letting out a sigh through his nose, Rocky folded the brochure sitting in front of him and pushed it off to the side of the table. "It doesn't matter," he replied.

Colt's eyebrows came towards each other as he picked up his energy drink and twisted off the cap. For a moment, Rocky didn't want to tell his brother the truth, to answer the question Colt conveyed with his eyes as he took a long sip of his drink; that he was looking at brochures of different colleges.

He knew that Colt would just shrug his shoulders and brush off his concerns. Not in a way to be a jerk, as Rocky had grown to understand over the years, but because it was just who Colt was. It was an aspect of his brother's personality he was, admittedly, envious of. Colt didn't let a lot of things bother him, but when they did, it often defaulted in Colt lashing out in anger or impatience. Much like their dad despite Colt's refusing to accept that he was anything like Samuel Douglas Sr.

Looking at school brochures wouldn't be a big deal to Colt. Or anyone for that matter. But the fact that Rocky was looking at brochures for any school instead of the one his dad had basically picked out for him since he was born, he knew could be a spot of contention in the home. It was just easier to get a feel for what it was, exactly, he wanted to get out of a school away from the home. It just wasn't as easy to articulate this his parents. He was always the one that did what was expected of him. Was praised for it. Given more and more responsibilities for it as he grew up. Too many responsibilities, maybe.

"Did you ask the girls about their dad?" Rocky asked. Colt's eyebrows lifted as he swallowed. "Riley and Rhuben."

"Oh, those girls." Colt nodded his head when he picked up a fork and speared his strips of chicken. "Yeah, I asked."

"Who's you think I was talking about?" Colt let out a weird chuckle, shaking his head back and forth. Rocky rolled his eyes. Then he widened them, giving his brother a pointed stare. Still, Colt kept his focus on his food. Rocky held back his huff of annoyance at Colt's nonchalant answer. "And?" he pressed.

Colt shrugged. "And, nothing," he replied. "If they had said anything about it, I would have come found you right away."

Rocky hummed. He knew what Colt said was true, but still, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, if not frustrated, that they had gotten nothing. He wasn't someone to really question the motives of anyone, especially one that just seemed to be pulled into whatever outside issues their family faced. Case and point with Jo and Miyo. And he would never forget the fear that pierced his heart when he had figured out that Jennifer had been targeted because of his ties to her specifically.

It made him wonder why he wasn't relieved about this. It was good news that nothing sinister was going on behind the scenes. He could relax. Just focus on what he needed to focus on. But it was still a nagging thought. It couldn't be a coincidence that this new family had moved into the area, and now Snyder's name was coming up a lot more. Or could it?

"You're sure they didn't say anything?" Rocky asked.

" _Yes,_ Rock, I'm sure," Colt replied.

"How did you ask them?"

"What?"

"How did you ask them?"

"I just asked them."

Rocky tilted his head, pulled his mouth to one side, and fixed Colt with a narrow-eyed stare. Colt widened his eyes in response. " _What_?"

"Come on, Colt," Rocky said, "you do have the tendency to…command people to tell you something instead of just asking."

"Whatever, dude," Colt said. "You wanted me to ask, so I asked." As he chewed his lunch, he looked around the cafeteria as it filled with more and more students as the seconds passed. Friends looked for friends to sit with, some others immediately bypassed the crowded area to sit outside. He spotted Tum-Tum making his way through the line, loading his tray with food. "Did you figure anything out at home?"

"Not like I thought I was going to," Rocky admitted. Colt hummed.

He had wished his mom for a good day at work that morning before she had stepped out the door. After taking the time to finish his breakfast – he needed to make sure he gave himself enough time for his mom to drive far enough away from home to be too far to turn around if she needed to – he rinsed his dishes, double checked he had everything he needed for work and then made a beeline for his father's office.

Still, he had felt himself standing outside the closed office door. He suddenly felt like he was being watched though he knew he was the only one in the house. Maybe it was the blatant breaking of the house rule. He knew not to go into his dad's workspace without permission whether he was home or not. Even playing or roughhousing outside the door could lead to an exasperated call to Jessica to move them away from his door. But they had all learned quick enough not to be anywhere near the office when he was home. Or at all.

And, as he was always reminded, he was the one who was to know better. He was the one to set an example with his brothers. It now felt weird that he was the one blatantly breaking one of the biggest rules of the house. He wasn't acting in a way that anyone would expect of him. Rocky had to shake out his hands and massaged his fingers to bring feeling back in them as they had suddenly felt stiff and cold.

"Well, what were you looking for?" Colt pressed.

"I don't know," Rocky replied. Colt gave him an annoyed look. Rocky made a face back, and asked, "What?" with more bite than he meant to.

Then he was frustrated that he felt annoyed about his reaction. Sure, people knew he was the calm one. The one that tried to get all information before reacting to situations. Hell, when he was given his ninja name, he was told specifically he was being named that way due to his being "strong, cool, and solid like granite rock." But, no one took into consideration that he did have a negatively cool side to himself. People didn't see it often, he knew it would change people's perceptions of him if they did, but it was there.

"I thought you had a plan for all of this, that's all," Colt said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"If I was going to find something, I would know it as soon as I saw it," Rocky replied quietly, almost more to himself than to Colt. He started feeling foolish all over again. Once had gained the courage to enter his dad's office, he had started looking through every shelf and cabinet drawer. For what, he wasn't entirely sure. Just something that would stand out to him, or to make a mental note of. Anything that could potentially have Snyder's name attached to it. Anything in their past that had some connection to him, or their grandpa's school Anything. "Dad's smart, he wouldn't just leave out any files again. I just keep wondering—"

"If we missed something like a hand in a picture, what else have we missed?" Colt asked. Rocky blinked, doing a double take before he looked his brother in the eye. Colt shifted his weight in his seat, pulling a knee to his chest. It wasn't unusual for them to be on the same page. Whenever faced with a problem, they both concerned themselves with solving the problem. It was just that they usually had different ways of going about it. Colt would charge through with the first idea that came to mind, and Rocky would observe everything before concluding the best course of action. "I've been thinking about it a lot. Not just now." His nose wrinkled slightly as he picked at his green beans. "In general."

"Yeah," Rocky agreed, "basically. There's more to grandpa and Snyder being in business together than we already know. I mean, I never really thought about mom and dad knowing him for so long." He reached for his juice and took a long sip. "I mean, they had lives before us."

"Yeah, that's weird," Colt said, his mouth twitching upwards in the corners. His eyebrows shifted upwards as he chuckled. "Mom and dad having lives?" Even Rocky couldn't help but laugh quietly. "God, it had to have been boring before we got there."

Rocky snorted. "Regularly getting ourselves involved in shady business dealings, and evil ninjas really brought the excitement they desperately needed to their lives," he said, and Colt laughed. He looked around the room, making out someone calling his name. Spotting Emily, he lifted his hand in a wave, tilting his head to indicate the empty seat next to him.

Sliding a forkful of green beans into his mouth, Colt settled his elbows on the table. He started spinning his fork between his fingers as he chewed. His gaze lingered for a moment on Emily. "Hey, Rock?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever wonder about everyone else?" Colt asked. Rocky gave him a confused look when Colt turned back to face him. "I mean, like, how Emily has been doing with everything?"

The short answer was yes, of course. The long answer was no. As if even a question like that would be simple. Whenever issues arose, he had a lot to worry about. First and foremost, he had to figure out how to solve whatever problem was to be solved. Then he had to work out the best first steps to solving that problem. Then once in the thick of it, he had to make sure his brothers got through everything safe and sound. Then by the end of it, it all seemed to work out.

Once it was done, he tried to put it out of his mind as best as possible. Not to forget what had happened, he was still good friends with Jo, and he and Miyo still wrote letters and e-mails back and forth, and he and Jennifer checked in with each other now and then, but it was over. It was done. They managed another win.

Now, it felt like they were already far behind on this problem. Whatever it was. Maybe that was what he was really looking for: a problem.

"Emily and I had actually talked about that recently," Rocky replied. Colt hummed. "We don't really talk to each other or hang out around this time."

"I have noticed that, actually," Colt replied. Rocky blinked in surprise. Colt rolled his eyes. "Man, come on. I mean you two have always been weird with each other, but you guys get _weird_ around this time of year."

"Thanks for clearing that up," Rocky said flatly. Though, he knew that Colt was right. They will be fine 11 months out of the year, and then when the anniversary of their abduction reared around, they grew apart. On his end, it was more so to spare her feelings on things. He didn't know if she was able to talk about what had happened to her that night, so they just didn't really talk about it.

Which meant, they didn't talk about their feelings. And that further lead to not talking about feelings about other things or each other. He never thought his interest in the martial arts would ever put anyone else in danger. Jo was all for joining in the fight when the Tawanka tribe was threatened, and he had learned so much working alongside Jo.

Jennifer, Amanda, and Emily were truly collateral damage.

And in a way, so were he and his brothers.

"Why do you ask?"

"I've just been thinking about what grandpa has once said about trying to be like the flowers or whatever," Colt replied. He glanced at Rocky out of the corner of his eye, as if waiting for his brother to start making fun of him. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. Rocky could see that Colt was being serious. "Clearly, that's not something Snyder took away from his teachings."

"He chose the hill he died on," Rocky said with a shrug. He gathered the school brochures and balanced it on top of his backpack that sat on the floor at his feet. "We know the right way to do things. The correct way to be a ninja."

"Right." Colt nodded in agreement. He lifted his hand in a wave when Emily greeted him before lowering herself into a seat next to Rocky. "Hey, Em."

"Hey, guys," Emily said somewhat breathlessly, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. She picked up her fork and started rapidly stabbing the green beans on her own plate, adding more and more until the tines were full. She only stopped when she realized both Rocky and Colt were staring at her. "What? I have to get to the library, today. College counselor said if I want to get early admission into NYU, I need to start my application, now. And I need to start looking for internships to pad my resume."

"Your love of gossip doesn't count as a qualification?" Colt asked. Emily gave him a forced, sweet smile and stuck out her tongue. Colt did the same.

"I don't love gossip," Emily protested. Rocky pressed his lips together, trying not to lock eyes with Colt who suddenly widened his, and turned his head away. " _I don't_!" Rocky put his hands up defensively when Emily turned towards him, lifting her eyebrows to prompt him to back her up.

"No, you just like knowing everything about everybody," Colt replied. He waved his fork in the air. "Come on, admit it, you love telling people that you can't tell them how you know everything you know. You want them to just hang on to every word."

"Maybe a little," Emily admitted, lifting her hand to hold her forefinger and thumb close to each other. "But, I'd want people to feel the same when _reading_ my words, too."

"That's fair," Colt replied with a nod.

"So, what were you two talking about before I came over," Emily said. "It looked important."

"Just seeing if we could figure out anything else with grandpa and Snyder," Rocky replied. Colt lifted an eyebrow in Rocky's direction, but didn't say anything else. "Nothing much else to go on."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Emily asked.

Rocky and Colt then locked eyes. They both pulled their lips downwards in the corners, shrugging. "Sure," Colt said, slowly. "I guess. We just kind of haven't…been in this situation before."

"Yeah," Rocky agreed.

"What situation?" Emily asked.

Colt pressed his lips together, a thoughtful look on his face. Rocky sighed through his nose, and said, "Where something might not be wrong."

"God forbid you guys get to be normal teenagers for once in your life," Emily joked, pulling a laugh from the two boys. Rocky removed his hat from his head with one hand and pushed his fingers through his hair with the other. "So, you're not going around school solving crimes like the Scooby-Doo gang." Colt snorted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Rocky chuckled. "It's probably better anyway, focusing on school. You can have fun. Like, Colt your first soccer game is coming soon. And there's the Homecoming dance."

"You're right," Rocky said, reaching into his pocket for his phone that vibrated against his thigh. He used his thumb to unlock his phone and read the text message he had received.

 **Mom:** Come home after school, please. Bring Tum-Tum with you.

Settling back in his seat, he quickly typed out a response: _I work the night shift. What about Colt?_ He didn't have to wait long for a response.

 **Mom:** He'll come straight after practice. It won't take long. Your father and I need to talk to you.

Rocky's stomach clenched and he felt his grip on his cell phone tighten. No matter who it came from, he hated it when people didn't give context to what they needed to talk about. Jennifer had done the same thing when they were together. He always took it in stride, making sure to not let his mind wander before he figured out what was wrong.

 **Mom:** Your grandpa is ok.

Some relief. Rocky glanced upwards and found Emily and Colt still talking with each other. He set his gaze back down on his phone and quickly realized that the text was sent only to him. Sighing, he responded with _Ok, I'll let C and T know_ before putting his phone back into his pocket and reaching for his juice.

"Mom wants you home as soon as practice is over," Rocky announced, pulling his brother's attention. "I'm taking Tum home right after school, and before work. She just texted."

"I didn't get anything," Colt said.

"She just texted me."

"Ok. Is—"

"Grandpa's fine."

"Good." Colt nodded. "Ok, sure. I'll be home after practice."

"Don't you and Jase start work tonight?" Emily asked.

"Yeah," Rocky agreed. "It'll be ok. I should be able to make it in time." He then pulled his abandoned lunch tray closer towards himself and started in on his warm fruit salad. "It's probably about dad's job or something. He needs to travel or something." Colt scoffed.

"Hey, guys," Jason said, joining them at the table, plates laden with piles of food. "Man, that line was long today." He started in as soon as he sat down. "I'm starving. What've I missed?"

"Nothing," Rocky, Colt, and Emily all said in unison.

"Um, ohhhkay," Jason said around his mouthful of food. For a moment, he still looked curiously at them before he put his attention back on his food.

The four of them talked all through lunch, their voices and laughter mixing in with the other students and the occasional announcements that were piped in through the ceiling speakers. He picked through the rest of his lunch before the bells chimed, signaling the end of the period. The monitors on the wall, cycling through all the school announcements, switched to a screen showing the times and durations of the last class periods of the day, and the times and locations of sports practices.

"Don't be late getting home, ok?" Rocky said, grabbing his backpack and his lunch tray.

"Yeah, yeah," Colt replied, waving his hand in the air. The four of them started making their way from the cafeteria and in the direction of their classes, falling into the crowd of students moving in the same direction. "Don't worry, I'll be there. I think I'll see Tum on my way to my locker, do you want me to give him the news?"

"No, I'll…" Rocky's sentence hung in the air as they pushed through a set of doors and stepped out into the school's square. Students gathered up their lunch trays, backpacks, frisbees, and footballs as they headed off in different directions. In the crowd, Rocky spotted Rhuben juggling a soccer ball with her knees, biting into an apple she held in her hand. "Actually, yeah. If you don't mind. I need to run out to my car, real quick."

"Cool." Colt lifted his chin in a nod before clapping Rocky on the shoulder before he joined the swell of students heading in the direction of his classroom.

Rocky stepped past students moving in the opposite direction he was going in. He tossed apologies over his shoulder to anyone he accidentally bumped. When he finally reached Rhuben, she already had her lunch tray in her hands, partially eaten apple core gently rocking from side to side with each step she took.

"Hi." Rocky gave her a smile in response to the curious look she gave him.

"Hey."

"Um, you're Rhuben, right?" he asked as he fell into step with her as she made her way to the tray return area, kicking her soccer ball ahead of her as she went. "Not Riley?"

"I am," she said with a short nod. "Rhuben, I mean." Her eyebrows lifted, eyes suddenly taking on a shine to them. "People don't usually get that right so quickly." She tipped the rest of her lunch into the trash can. "And you're Rocky, yeah? Not Colt?"

"That's funny," Rocky said, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "Um, so you told me you were into photography when I was at your place."

"Mhm." Rhuben nodded. She added her tray to the stack and wiped her hands on the seat of her pants.

"Well, I was hoping you could help me with something." Rocky tilted his shoulder and allowed his backpack to hit the ground. He unzipped the bag and carefully removed the bulky photo album he had wedged inside with his schoolbooks. "Is it possible for you to scan these and put them on a disc for me?"

Rhuben carefully took the photo album in her hands and flipped open the front cover. She quickly flipped through a couple of pages. A smile came to her face as she looked over the photos and Rocky found himself smiling, too. "Your parents make a bloody cute couple," she commented.

"Oh, thanks."

"You need all of this done?" she asked, looking up at him.

"If it's not too much to ask," Rocky replied. "There's no time limit or anything on it. I'd really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries," Rhuben replied. She closed the photo album and looked up at him with a smile. "Shouldn't take me too long. I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done."

"Great, thanks," Rocky said with a smile. "I really appreciate it."

"You already said that," Rhuben said with a chuckle. She grabbed her backpack and removed her cell phone from the side pocket, handing it out towards him. Rocky looked down at the phone, which opened at his touch enough to prompt him to unlock with a swipe design. She reached over and quickly drew out a zig-zag design with her index finger. "I'll give you a ring if I get done early."

"Oh, sure," Rocky replied, quickly navigating to her phone book to add his own contacts. He briefly looked in Riley's direction, throwing a "Hi, Riley," at her.

"Mmm, usually blokes have to work a lot harder to get her number," Riley said with a smirk as she stepped up to her sister. She placed her chin on Rhuben's shoulder and gave Rocky a smile. "You must be pretty special."

Rhuben smiled a teasing smile that matched her sister's. Still, she elbowed Riley in the side with her elbow, and had the good nature to flush. "Most people around here think you are," Rhuben said.

Rocky felt himself grow hot under the collar of his shirt. He kept his head bent; gaze focused on the cell phone in his hands. Pressing his lips together, he typed in his cell phone number and added his name. "That's…you don't need to pay attention to that," Rocky said with an embarrassed chuckle. "People just know me here. That's all."

"Obviously," the girls said in unison. Rocky lifted his head. He couldn't see anything in the twin girls' faces and didn't hear much in their voices either. Still, as he handed Rhuben her phone back, he used his free hand to adjust his hat on his head.

"Take it as a compliment, mate," Riley said. Rocky blinked at the rise and fall of her right shoulder in, what he quickly deduced was to be a shrug. "People will always talk about people; whether they're talking fucking crap or not."

Rocky's eyebrows came towards each other in a startled expression. He wasn't one who cared so much about whether people cursed or not. Personally, he rarely used them. He wasn't sure what it was that made him stop and take notice of Riley's use of the word. Certainly, her accent would catch the attention of just about, well, everybody. There were lots of different people around the area with different backgrounds, and different accents, but not too many people with an accent like hers. No, the accent wasn't it. Maybe it was the casualty with which she had used it? Or how accepting she was of the fact that people talked about her; good or bad.

His mom had always told him to just ignore what everybody always said about him. And he always reassured her that he did. But, there was still a part of him that listened. Some things he just couldn't help but pay so much attention to. To make sure he was still being the Samuel or the Rocky that everybody knew him to be. The praise after hard work paid off was one thing, to hear over and over how he was being a good example for his brothers was another, and an entirely different thing all together when he was told that more was expected of him.

That was it: it was the underlying bitterness in her tone that he could hear. That's what he had locked on to. A bitterness he never fully let himself express. Or even come close to expressing. He barely ever let the emotion weigh on his shoulders before he acted like he was supposed to. And maybe guilt. Maybe he heard that, too.

"Anyway, mum called: dad's working late tonight," Riley said to Rhuben who made a face. For a moment, Riley copied it. "Yeah, I know. Wasn't too stoked to hear it, either. Mum wanted to know if you were going to stay after school to practice football, and if you needed him to swing by and grab you when he's done, or if you were going to come with us. I just need to find the boys and tell them."

"Yeah, reckon I'll stay around for a bit," Rhuben agreed with a nod. "I won't have any time this weekend." She gave her sister a pointed look and said in a high-pitched voice, " _Thank you very much_."

" _You're welcome very much_ ," Riley replied in the same tone of voice. She gave her sister a bright, sweet smile. Rhuben rolled her eyes. "I'll tell mum what you said," Riley said, removing her cell phone from her back pocket, "See you later, then."

Rocky watched as the twin girls bumped their fists together. "Ta," Rhuben gave her sister a finger wave before she headed across the campus at a light jog, her backpack bouncing on her back as she did so.

Rocky handed Rhuben back her phone, watching Riley go. "She's older than you, isn't she?" he asked. "Riley."

"Yeah." Rhuben looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she turned to put her phone back into her backpack pocket. "How'd you know?"

Rocky bit back an unnecessary snort. Their mom calling one of them directly instead of sending a text. Relaying information to everyone involved. The responsibility of making sure everyone got from one place to the next. All things he recognized and had experienced himself. He'd recognize an elder child anywhere.

"I could just tell," he replied, looking back at Rhuben. "I should get to class but thanks again. I appreciate—" Rhuben's eyebrows lifted, a small, amused, smile coming to her face. He felt himself smile, too. "Thanks."

"No worries." Rocky took a step back when Rhuben planted her foot on top of the soccer ball, quickly pulling it backwards to roll onto the top of her foot and proceeded to kick the ball straight up into the air. Catching the soccer ball between her hands, she spun it between her fingers. "See you later. Don't want you to be late to class."

* * *

Rocky made a face as he adjusted the hat to his work uniform on his head, pulling the bill around his head until it sat forward so he could settle back against the couch cushions. A second later, he removed it from his head, and spun it around in his hands, the embroidered slice of cheese on the hat a swirling block of color in front of his eyes.

Beside him, Tum-Tum slumped on the couch, his shoulders up to chin. He shook a blender bottle, his thumb pressed tightly over the lid to stop the protein shake from flying out of the spout. Dressed in a loose t-shirt, loose shorts, and sock-feet, he was prepared for baseball practice his dad had ready for him. If he didn't have work that evening, he'd be right beside Tum-Tum and Colt at the at home practice.

The front door burst open and Colt came hurrying into the house. He dropped his sports bag onto the floor and hurried to sit in between Rocky and Tum-Tum. His face was still shiny with sweat, blotches of red on his face. He still wore his t-shirt and soccer shorts, his shin guards and grass-stained white socks pulled up to his knees.

"Ok," Colt said, removing the elastic from his hair that kept it back from his face. His hair swung forward and he used both hands to push it back. "I'm here. What's going on?"

"Um, well," Jessica said, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. "It's probably best that we just get right to the point."

Sam nodded. "We want you both to know that everything is going to be ok," he said. He put his hand over Jessica's. "And that this isn't something we wanted to worry you about."

"What's going on?" Colt asked, looking back and forth between their parents.

"Yeah," Tum-Tum said before he tilted his head back and took a few gulps of his protein shake. He let out a sigh and used his forearm to wipe at his mouth. "What's going on?"

Rocky stayed silent, moving to rest his arm on the armrest of the couch.

"We've started keeping track of Snyder over at the FBI," Sam replied. Rocky felt Colt and Tum-Tum stiffen beside him. Rocky leaned forward in his seat, slightly, but still stayed silent. "We've had people go in over the years to make sure he was still following the conditions of his sentencing. But, still, we've started keeping tabs on him, again." He rubbed the palms of his hands together before looking over at Jessica who gave him a small smile of support. "We're not saying he's done anything, and we're not saying that we're in danger – that any of us are in danger. We just wanted you to know, as much as I can tell you, about what's been going on."

Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum all started talking at once: "So, there _is_ something going on?" (Rocky); "Man, this guy doesn't know when to quit" (Colt); "What does that mean?" (Tum-Tum). Sam put his hands into the air, a pained expression on his face, and waited until the three of them quieted down.

"Before I answer anything, and listen carefully because this is important," Sam said, "your mother and I need to know that you promise not to get yourselves involved in this. I don't know how you would, but I need you to promise."

"Yes, boys, this could be a very dangerous situation," Jessica added. "Please, promise us. We're not trying to worry you, or scare you or anything, because nothing has really happened. We just want your word."

"Promise," Tum-Tum instantly piped up, starting to shake his blender bottle again. The sound filled the otherwise silence in the room.

"Sure," Colt said with a shrug. "Whatever you say. I promise."

All eyes turned towards him. He could easily say he promised not to get involved, it was what was expected of him. Promise not to do anything rash and make sure his brothers did the same. After all, they didn't really know anything. Just going off a hunch that something was off.

And they were right.

All the same, he had to respect his parents for coming straight out and telling them what had been going on. But that still didn't answer the question of how Snyder got to be one of the most south after men in America. And what made him and their grandfather have a falling out. And why their grandpa was losing so much money from his business at one time.

Still, if his parents were telling them it wasn't something to worry about, maybe they really didn't need to worry about it. After all, Snyder was behind bars, and nothing strange had happened around them. In fact, this all made the tension between their parents make a lot more sense. And if everything did turn out ok, then he could just

"I promise," Rocky replied.

Sam pulled his mouth to the side, eyes flashing in amusement. "Hand check, please." As Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum all chuckled, lifting their hands in the air, Sam said, "I'm just making sure the next time I turn my back you all aren't going to be sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night."

"Would _we_ do that?" Tum-Tum said, widening his eyes in innocence.

Rocky laughed through his nose, knowing if it came to it, that's exactly what they would do.

* * *

 **A/N:** Here we are with another chapter. I hope you all are doing well amidst corona and all of that. This chapter was focused on Rocky, and the next one will be focused on Tum-Tum (if this chapter title didn't really give that away). Don't forget to check out Riley's 3 Ninjas fic, _Crossroads._ If you're a big fan of Rocky and want a Rocky-centered fic to read, that's the story for you!

-Rhuben


End file.
